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Chapter Text

Chapter 1: When Rain Falls Like Judgment
Fairy Tail Guild Hall – Late Afternoon
Juvia Lockser had known heartbreak before. She had experienced rejection, sorrow, unrequited affection.
But not like this.
Not this piercing, soul-splitting pain that throbbed through her chest like a curse.
She wasn’t stalking. No, absolutely not. She was simply… positioned tactically behind a large decorative fern in the Fairy Tail guild hall. Perfectly motionless. Entirely drenched. Her azure hair clung to her face like soaked ribbons, raindrops streaming down her pale cheeks as though the weather itself conspired to reflect her despair. Puddles formed silently around her boots, creeping into the floorboards, unnoticed amid the rowdy chaos of the hall.
Her wide, unblinking eyes were locked on a scene across the room.
There they were. Gray Fullbuster and Lucy Heartfilia. Sitting at the bar. Laughing. Too close. Too easy. Too warm.
Lucy leaned in and nudged Gray’s shoulder playfully. Her giggle was soft, genuine. Gray’s response was a smile—not the guarded smirk he gave acquaintances or the exasperated grin he used on Natsu, but something else.
Something relaxed. Tender. Real.
Juvia’s heart made a sound like porcelain fracturing inside her chest.
“They’re flirting,” she whispered hoarsely, her gloved fingers curling into white-knuckled fists around the edge of the flowerpot. “This is how it begins. First, laughter. Then, shared drinks. And before long… love.”
A sharp crack! echoed from the pot beside her. A hairline fracture split its surface. A single petal tumbled into the puddle at her feet like a fallen hope.
Then Lucy tossed her hair back with a carefree laugh, brushing Gray’s bare arm with her fingertips, and Gray leaned closer, whispering something in her ear.
It was over.
Juvia didn’t remember storming out. Only the cold. Only the sting of rain pelting her skin like judgment. The sky above mirrored the bottomless gray of her grief as she stumbled through Magnolia’s winding streets like a woman condemned.

The Supply Room – That Evening
She was just retrieving a mop. A perfectly normal, mop-related task.
She absolutely was not following anyone. And certainly not Gray. And especially not Lucy.
Yet, as she turned a corner by the back hallway, her breath caught.
There they were.
Lucy stood pressed against Gray. Her arms wrapped tightly around him. His hands rested on her waist. It wasn’t a fleeting hug. It was slow. Intimate. The kind of embrace that spoke in silences, in half-breaths and unsaid promises.
Juvia inhaled so sharply she nearly swallowed the cleaning rag in her hands.
“They’ve… they’ve ascended to stage two,” she gasped, eyes wild. “Physical intimacy! The second bloom of love!”
Her magic flared. A dense cloud burst against the ceiling, soaking crates with fat raindrops. A broom sizzled and caught fire. A pristine stack of folded towels collapsed into a bubbling cascade of foam that swept across the floor like an avalanche of despair.

Sunset in the Garden
Golden light streamed through the high windows of the guild, soft and drowsy. Juvia, trudging past the courtyard garden, nearly didn’t look.
But she did.
There they were. Again.
Gray and Lucy. Alone. Sitting close. Closer than necessary. Knees touching. Lucy’s forehead rested gently against Gray’s shoulder. His eyes were half-lidded, peaceful in a way Juvia had never seen.
Her stomach dropped.
“They’ve kissed,” she breathed. The words tumbled from her lips like the last grains of hope. “It’s official. Juvia is forsaken. Her love… obliterated by golden-haired treachery.”
She collapsed, face-first, into the wet garden soil, sobbing into the earth as thunder cracked and the rain redoubled its fury.

The Next Morning – Guild Hall
The guild was bustling as usual, until Makarov’s voice cut through the chatter like a lightning bolt.
“Listen up! We’ve got a crisis!”
Juvia sat slumped at a table in the corner, hair clinging to her face, stormcloud hovering low over her head. Raindrops plinked steadily onto the floor.
“Let the rain swallow Juvia whole…” she murmured.
“An entire guild has vanished,” Makarov continued grimly. “No signs of survivors. No debris. Just gone.”
Gasps rippled through the room.
“What?” Natsu asked, voice taut.
“Yellow Chimera,” Makarov said. “A new guild that started operating two months ago.”
“A guild... vanished? What do you mean by that?” asked Lucy.
“Completely. Like someone literally vaporized it.”
“Do you know who could have done it?” Erza asked. “Any dark guild?”
“We don’t know. But whoever did this... is a very powerful mage indeed,” Makarov said, deadly serious. “Team Natsu, I want you to go to the site and investigate.”
“Sure. We will,” Natsu clenched his fists. “I can’t forgive someone who did that to a guild, let alone a new one.”
“Then we depart in an hour,” added Erza.
But Team Natsu would not be going alone.
“Juvia comes too!” she declared, standing so suddenly her chair toppled. Her voice trembled, but her eyes burned. “She believes you’ll need her help!”
Erza frowned. “You’re not part of Team Natsu. Why?”
“Juvia will not allow Gray-sama to go on such a dangerous task unguarded. She will protect him!”
“But, Juvia, listen—” Gray began.
“No discussion!” she snapped. “Still, extra help is always needed.”
Lucy sighed deeply. “Well, I think she’s right. We don’t know who did this...” Of course, Lucy suspected Juvia would chase them regardless if they said no.
Erza relented. “Fine. But stay focused.”

The Wagon Ride – Hours Later
The journey was agony.
Juvia sobbed with such intensity even the horses pulling the wagon seemed annoyed. At one point, she leaned out the window just to cry into the landscape.
“Their noses touched!” she wailed. “And there was whipped cream! Betrayal, served cold and dairy-based!”
Lucy groaned. “Oh, I knew you were going to say that. Juvia, listen, I was wiping it off his face and—”
“WITH YOUR SOUL?!”
Gray muttered, “I can’t do this today.”
Erza stared straight ahead. “I should have known you wanted to come for that reason. Listen, Juvia—focus on the mission, or we’ll leave you in the wagon. Understood?”
“Understood...”
(You liar, Juvia thought. You were kissing... and Juvia thought you were her friend...)
Wendy silently handed her a box of tissues.

Yellow Chimera’s Last Location
Yellow Chimera’s guild—what remained of it—stood on the outskirts of a city.
Correction: it didn’t stand. It had been erased.
A massive crater marked the spot, surrounded by warped earth. Stones hovered in midair. The horizon shimmered. Colors bled and twisted where they shouldn’t.
“This is real,” Erza said, stunned. “Someone erased this guild from existence.”
“Maybe Oración Seis or Raven Tail resurfaced?” Lucy suggested.
“This isn’t standard magic,” Erza replied. “Not even they could do something this precise.”
“I sense something,” Wendy said. “There’s someone nearby. A mage.”
They followed her lead.
And found her.
A woman sat atop a floating stone. Braided crimson hair. Black clothing. A red cape billowed gently behind her. A wand rested in her right hand. Her eyes—cold, brown, unfeeling—studied them with disinterest.
Wendy instinctively stepped back. This woman’s presence was wrong.
“Excuse me,” Erza called out. “We’re investigating the disappearance of a guild. Have you seen anything unusual?”
The woman gazed down at her, impassive.
“I have nothing to say to ants,” she said, voice sharp and dismissive.
“Hey! You don’t need to be such a jerk!” Natsu shouted. “She just asked you a question!”
The woman rose slowly, standing tall above them. She examined the group with calm dissection, like a lion eyeing prey.
“I suppose you brats are mages, then?”
“We are!” Natsu shouted.
“Good,” she said. “Let’s see how powerful you are.”
She raised her wand.
Wendy flew backward, struck by a spell no one even saw.
“Wendy!” Lucy cried.
“You’ll regret that!” Natsu roared—and charged.
His fire inverted mid-leap, freezing into brittle shards of ice.
Gray’s ice shattered harmlessly.
Lucy’s keys locked.
Erza’s armor vanished.
Juvia stepped forward, shouting, “Water Slicer!”
The blades hissed—and evaporated.
Wendy tried to heal—but her magic turned green, twisted, and lashed her hands.
“What kind of magic is this?” she whimpered.
The woman shook her head. “You are not worthy.”
She turned her back.
“YOU’RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE!” Juvia screamed. “WATER LOCK!”
It popped like a soap bubble.
The woman sighed. “You’re loud, little puddle. I think I should silence you...”
She conjured a blade of energy and hurled it toward Juvia.
“JUVIA! NO!” Gray yelled.
He dove—too fast to stop himself.
The blade pierced his side.
Blood sprayed.
He collapsed.
“GRAY!” Lucy’s scream echoed.
“GRAY-SAMA!” Juvia sobbed, crawling to him. “No, no, no—please no—”
Natsu roared. Erza attacked. But the woman floated above them—untouchable.
“You fight well,” she said. “But not well enough.”
She glanced down at Gray’s body.
“Let this be your warning. Crossing paths with me again would be... unwise.”
Reality fractured.
She vanished.
And Gray’s blood soaked into the place that once housed Yellow Chimera.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2 – The Storm Inside

Back at the Guild
The world was too loud.
Gray lay unconscious on the infirmary cot, his shirt soaked in blood. Crimson seeped through the bandages wound tight around his torso. Each shallow breath was a victory Juvia wasn’t sure he could keep winning.
Wendy hovered over him, her small hands glowing with healing light. Her magic pulsed in frantic waves, and tears streaked her cheeks. “Please… please be okay…”
Makarov stood silent at the foot of the bed, his shoulders sagging under a weight that made him look older than ever.
Across the room, Natsu slammed his fist into the floorboards. Wood cracked under the blow, splintering wide enough for blood from his knuckles to drip through. He didn’t even seem to notice.
Lucy sat beside Gray’s bed, head bowed, tears falling silently. One trembling hand rested on the edge of the mattress; the other brushed a damp lock of hair from Gray’s forehead, as if the touch alone might keep him tethered.
And Juvia…
Juvia stood apart.
Soaked. Shaking.
A storm cloud hovered low over her, shedding rain like grief from the heavens. Her hair hung in wet ribbons around her face. Her clothes clung to her shivering frame. Her hands dangled uselessly at her sides.
She looked more shadow than person.
Erza’s voice broke through the storm. Low. Controlled. Dangerous.
“Juvia.”
The name landed like a sword tip against her throat.
Juvia flinched. Her wide, red-rimmed eyes lifted slowly. “Erza…”
Erza stepped forward, each movement deliberate, the metal of her armor catching the light in sharp glints. “What. Did. You. Do.”
Juvia’s knees buckled. She dropped into the puddle at her feet, sending ripples through the water.
“Juvia didn’t mean to…” Her voice cracked, small and hoarse. “Juvia only wanted to protect Gray-sama…”
Erza’s jaw tightened. “You saw how powerful that woman was. You saw what she could do. And you charged at her anyway. No plan. No warning. You—” she caught herself, drew in a sharp breath, and steadied her tone. “You put yourself and Gray in danger.”
“No!” Juvia’s voice rose in a frantic cry. “Juvia would never put Gray-sama in danger!”
Erza’s gaze hardened to steel.
“Then why insist on coming? Was it really to help us? Or was it because you thought Lucy was dating him?”
The truth jammed in Juvia’s throat like glass. She said nothing.
“Gray will survive,” Erza said, quieter now, but no gentler. “Thanks to Wendy. But your actions nearly got him killed. And for what? To prove something? To compete?”
The words hit harder than any blow.
“I… Juvia is sorry,” she whispered.
Outside, thunder rolled.
Inside, no one spoke.

The Clinic – Midnight
Moonlight spilled through rain-slick windows, pale and cold.
Juvia slipped inside the infirmary without a sound. Her fingertips brushed the doorframe as she passed, as though afraid she might disappear if she didn’t anchor herself to something real.
Gray lay in bed, chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. His skin was pale. His torso swaddled in layers of bandages. Alive — for now.
Beside him, Lucy sat slouched in a chair. Exhaustion dulled her features, but her eyes were soft as she reached forward, brushing a damp strand of hair from Gray’s forehead.
It was a tender gesture.
It was also the final crack in Juvia’s control.
“You’ve stolen Gray-sama from Juvia…” The words rasped out of her, brittle and barely human.
Lucy’s eyes widened. “Juvia? What’s—”
“You hugged him. You kissed him. You pretended to be Juvia’s friend!”
Lucy straightened, shock flashing to hurt. “Wait, no—Juvia, that’s not what this is—”
“Don’t lie! You break Juvia’s heart and flaunt it!”
Lucy’s expression tightened. “You’re upset. But this is too far.”
“Juvia thought you were her friend!”
Lucy’s voice dropped, cold and deliberate. “Gray. Is. Not. Yours.”
The words hit like a blade to the ribs.
“You…” Juvia staggered.
“He’s not a prize. He’s not a doll. He’s not even mine. He’s a person. And you don’t get to claim him.”
Juvia’s rage boiled over, drowning the shame she didn’t want to feel.
“JUVIA HAS HAD ENOUGH! GO AWAY, YOU BLONDE—BITCH!”
The word exploded out of her like shattering glass.
For a moment, there was only the echo. Then the thunder broke — a beat too late, as if the sky itself recoiled. Lightning flooded the room in white for a heartbeat, then left it darker than before.
Lucy froze.
Juvia’s own breath caught.
Her hands flew to her mouth.
What did I just say?
The rage drained in an instant, leaving only horror. “What… what has Juvia said…?” Her voice shrank, trembling. “That… that isn’t me. That isn’t who Juvia is…”
Her knees weakened. She stared at Lucy with shame crawling up her throat like bile.
“Gray-sama would hate me… Natsu… Wendy… even Erza—none of them would forgive this…” She looked down at her trembling hands. “Juvia didn’t mean it… she didn’t…”
But she had.
Lucy’s expression shifted from shock to something colder, wounded in a way that no apology could easily mend.
“You don’t get to do that,” Lucy said, voice shaking now — not with fear, but fury. “You don’t get to scream at me, insult me, accuse me of stealing Gray — when all I’ve ever done is try to be your friend.”
Juvia opened her mouth, but nothing came.
“You think you’re the only one who cares about him? That love means throwing tantrums and hurting people?”
Lucy’s gaze hardened. “What you feel for Gray? It’s not love. It’s obsession. And it’s toxic.”
The word obsession echoed in Juvia’s skull like a curse.
Lucy shook her head. “I’ve been patient. I’ve looked the other way. But today? You almost got him killed. Because you were too focused on your feelings to see the danger.”
Her fists clenched. “If you think following him everywhere and ignoring his wishes is love — then maybe you never knew what it was in the first place.”
She stepped past Juvia, jaw tight, shoulders squared, and didn’t look back.
Juvia remained in the storm — drenched, hollow, alone.
“She… she called Juvia… a stalker…” the words barely left her lips. “Am I…?”
No answer came.
Only the rain.

Chapter Text

The Plan
Juvia Lockser had a plan.
It was reckless. Romantic. Ridiculous.
And to her, it was perfect.
“If Juvia defeats that woman…” she whispered dramatically, pacing in a small clearing outside Magnolia, “…Gray-sama will be impressed. He will forget that blonde boyfriend-snatcher and come running into Juvia’s arms.”
Her eyes sparkled with dangerous determination, the kind that had gotten her into trouble before.
Above her, rain clouds hung low, their drizzle soaking her hair, her coat, and her already inflated confidence.
She practiced a few water whips, a spiraling jet, even a backflip that almost worked—until she landed nose-first in the mud. Spitting out a mouthful of dirt, she sat down heavily on a mossy bench.

Fantasy Sequence
The vision that filled her head was glorious.
A crimson-haired mage towered over the ruins of Team Natsu—Erza’s sword was split in two, Natsu groaned under a pile of rubble, and Wendy lay limp in the dust.
“What’s going to happen to us?!” Gray cried, clutching his ribs. “She’s too strong!”
“HAHAHAHA!!” the woman’s laughter cracked across the battlefield like thunder. Lightning flashed behind her, throwing her face into shadow. “No one can stop me!”
And then—a single beam of divine light broke through the storm clouds.
Descending in a swirling column of sapphire water came Aqua Goddess Juvia.
“JUVIA!!” Natsu gasped. “It’s Juvia! We’re saved!”
“She will defeat that evil mage!” Lucy sobbed in awe. “Because she is much prettier and more powerful than me!”
Juvia landed in a perfect twirl, raised one hand high, and unleashed a tidal wave so massive that the crimson-haired mage was swept away into the horizon, screaming in slow motion:
“NOOOOO!! I would have succeeded in my evil, ambiguous plan if not for AQUA GODDESS JUVIAAAAA!!”
The skies cleared. Birds sang. Flowers bloomed.
Gray stumbled toward her, eyes full of devotion.
“Juvia, my love… I’ve always loved you. I’ll dump that double-crossing blonde right now.”
“I deserve this,” Lucy whimpered. “I am nothing compared to the great Juvia…”
Gray dropped to one knee.
“We will live in a palace. Have twenty children. And I will kiss your passionate lips every morning—”
THUD.
Reality slammed back as Juvia slipped sideways off the bench and landed face-first in cold, squelching mud.
“Owww…”

Into the Wilderness
Day after day, Juvia searched.
She prowled the edges of towns, wandered through forests, watched rivers and valleys for a flash of crimson hair.
She spent more time outside the guild than in it, her obsession sharpening into a single point: find that woman.
And then—finally—she saw her.
The mage stood before the Twilight Ogre guild, perfectly still, as if deciding whether to destroy it. There was a stillness about her, the kind predators have before striking.
“Are you planning to erase another guild, woman?” Juvia called.
The mage turned slowly, her crimson hair rippling in the wind.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you again… puddle.”
“You hurt Gray-sama! You will pay for what you’ve done!” Juvia snarled, one hand already lifting with a shimmer of water magic.
The woman smiled faintly. “If you insist… I’ll grant you a chance.”
She stepped forward, took Juvia’s wrist, and in a flash of red light, the world vanished.
They reappeared in a quiet glade on the outskirts of Magnolia.
“Well then, puddle… come at me.” Her voice dripped with condescension.
“WATER SLICER!”
Razor-thin blades of water shot toward her target—sharper and faster than before.
They evaporated inches from the mage’s body.
“Even with your friends, you couldn’t touch me,” the woman said lazily. “And now you come alone? Brave… or stupid?”
“This is only the warm-up! Juvia has trained—she is stronger now! WATER CANE!”
The whip lashed forward. It dissolved into mist.
“For all your so-called training,” the mage said, voice like silk over steel, “you are still nothing. You think yourself a tide that will sweep me away?” She stepped forward, lips curling. “You are a droplet… in my boot.”
Magic flared. An invisible force slammed into Juvia’s chest, hurling her backward into a stone outcrop. Her ribs rattled. She slid down the rock, her breath ragged.
“I have to admit,” the mage said, gliding toward her, “you are persistent for a worm. But persistence is not power. And splashing in puddles for a few days won’t change your fate.”
“And all this… for that ice boy. The one hurt because of you.”
“DON’T—mention Gray-sama’s name!” Juvia roared, forcing herself upright.
The woman tilted her head. “Tell me, little raindrop—if he told you to stab yourself or lose his affection… would you obey?”
The words pierced straight into a memory Juvia wished she’d buried forever.
“Gray-sama… would never… make Juvia do that!” she gasped.
“Pitiful creature. So easy to break.”
“Juvia will not break! WATER SLICER!”
The attack turned to vapor again before touching her.
The mage yawned. “Lesson time, puddle. I will not kill you—your stubbornness deserves at least that much. But I will remind you what happens to insects who defy me.”
A spear of raw magic flared in her hand, then shot toward Juvia like lightning.

Back at the Guild
When Juvia pushed open the Fairy Tail doors, she was limping, caked in mud, her dress torn, and her face smeared with dried blood.
Erza was on her feet instantly. “Juvia?! What happened to you?!”
“Juvia… was training…”
“Training? You vanish for days and come back like this? Who—” Erza’s eyes narrowed. “You went after her, didn’t you?”
Juvia hesitated. “…Yes.”
“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!” Erza’s voice made the entire guild turn. “We fought her together and failed—and you thought you alone would do better? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!”
“She hurt Gray… Juvia had to—”
“Gray was hurt because you lost control!” Erza snapped. “And now you nearly died chasing a fantasy!”
“I just wanted to make up for it…”
Erza’s glare softened slightly. “Do you know what would happen to Gray if you were killed? From now on—” her voice went cold again, “—you are banned from taking missions with Gray. You are a danger to him, to us… and to yourself.”
“…Juvia understands.” She knew, deep down, that Erza was right.

The Infirmary
Gray was sitting up when she entered. He looked tired, not angry.
“Juvia… what the hell were you thinking?”
She kept her eyes on the floor. “Juvia just… wanted to prove something.”
“You don’t have to prove anything to me,” he said softly. “You’re strong. But throwing yourself into hopeless fights… that’s not bravery. That’s desperation.”
“I care about you, Juvia. As a friend. And I don’t want to see a good friend keep getting hurt.”
Friend.
The word rang in her skull, cold and final.

Hallway Encounter
Leaving the infirmary, she saw Lucy arrive. Smiling. Talking with Gray. Laughing.
She ducked behind a pillar. Watched. Her nails dug into her palms.

That Night
Alone in her room, Juvia curled under the blanket. The stormcloud above barely stirred. Her pillow was wet—not from the rain, but from tears.
“A stalker. Lucy called Juvia a stalker. Who does she think she is? That Juvia doesn’t know what love is? That Gray-sama is a trophy to me? Ridiculous! Juvia loves—”
A smaller voice, uninvited, cut in:
You were quick to call her a bitch, weren’t you? If you truly love Gray, why does your anger always come first?
“SHUT UP!”
And there she was.
A girl who thought she could be a goddess.
And failed.

Chapter Text

Of course Juvia did not give up.
Of course the training continued.
“They will see. They will all be impressed when I defeat that woman. No… this time, I won’t let her catch Juvia off guard. Never again.”
Each day, Juvia carved her determination into the landscape. Water Slicers that once faltered now split boulders with surgical precision. Torrents she once struggled to control now coiled around her like blades awaiting command. She trained in rain, in cold, under sun and moon. Sleep became optional. Food, an afterthought. All that mattered was getting strong enough to stop Irene Belserion.
And yet, the woman herself did not return.
Not until that fateful evening.
It happened just after Juvia had reduced a jagged stone to shattered rubble with a piercing Water Slicer. The air was still, the only sound her own breathing and the distant whisper of waves. Then—
“Quite persistent, aren’t you, puddle?”
The voice didn’t echo. It didn’t need to. It slid down her spine like a ribbon of ice.
Her blood ran cold.
She turned slowly, every instinct in her body screaming run, even as her heart screamed fight.
And there she was.
The crimson-haired woman.
She stood at the edge of the training field as though she had been watching for hours. A crimson braid draped over one shoulder, robes of obsidian black trailing behind her like shadows spun from silk. She looked like a queen from a cursed kingdom—regal, poised, and radiating malice.
Juvia didn’t hesitate. Her instincts took over.
She slashed both arms through the air.
“Water Blades!”
A series of gleaming blades hurtled forward—sharp, fast, and deadly.
The woman didn’t even flinch.
With the faintest smirk, she raised one hand. Mid-flight, the blades lost their shimmer, drooping into heavy brown streams before splashing uselessly onto the grass—puddles of syrupy chocolate.
Juvia stared. Shocked. Repulsed.
“I pierced your suitor,” the mage said softly, almost amused. “I humiliated you in front of your comrades. And still, you stand. Still, you defy me.”
“Juvia NEVER yields!” she shouted, lungs burning with rage.
Again, she hurled water blades—
But the woman in black was no longer there.
A whisper brushed Juvia’s ear. Her heart leapt.
“Tell me, little mermaid…”
Juvia spun. The mage stood right behind her.
“What mage class do you hold?”
“Juvia is an S-Class Mage!” she snapped, proud and defiant. “From the strongest guild in Fiore!”
Irene tilted her head, smiling without warmth. Her eyes glowed faintly red.
“Very well… S-Class Mage…” The words were soaked in scorn.
“Let’s see if you can back up that title.”
She raised her wand.
With a snap of magic, three white humanoid beings flickered into view. They hovered just above the ground—eyeless, featureless, their long limbs twitching like broken marionettes. Their skin shimmered like wrinkled silk, a jagged symbol pulsing on each forehead.
They made no sound. No growl. No hiss. Just that silent, glitching wrongness.
Juvia took a step back.
What in the name of the ocean…?
One of the creatures launched toward her, claws slashing.
She leapt aside just in time.
“Water Slicer!”
A blade of water struck its chest. It fell—limbs sprawled—then spasmed violently and rose again like a corpse refusing the grave.
Gritting her teeth, Juvia turned as the other two came at her, sliding through the air with unnatural speed.
“Water Lock!”
A massive sphere engulfed them. Inside, they clawed at invisible walls, twitching without pause. Driven by fear, Juvia squeezed the sphere tighter—until the pressure crushed them in silence. The bubble burst.
She barely had time to breathe.
The third one lunged.
“STAY AWAY!” she screamed, eyes wide. “WATER SLICER!!”
A barrage of blades tore it apart. It didn’t scream—just unraveled into ribbons of gray mist.
Silence returned.
Juvia stood panting, sweat dripping into her eyes, heart pounding.
What… what were those things?
“They are my soldiers,” the mage said calmly, stepping closer. “Early prototypes. They… need refinement.”
Her lips curled slightly.
“Still… I underestimated you. Perhaps you do deserve the title you boast.”
Juvia stood her ground, but her hands trembled.
Scarlet magic flared at the sorceress wand, spilling outward like smoke made of blood. It coiled around Juvia, tightening in invisible chains that pressed against her skin and bones.
Juvia gasped. She couldn’t move.
“I’ve never attempted to turn an S-Class mage into a Nobody before,” the woman murmured. “You might make an exceptional soldier.”
Juvia’s eyes widened.
A Nobody…?
“However, turning a S-class mage is a comlicated process, and risky, also, to be sincere, I would prefer to check how much you endure.
The coils of red magic tightened, thrumming like a predator’s purr.
“As a token of appreciation for your resolve,” the mage said, her voice low and certain, “I’ll grant you a privilege few receive before they fall.”
Her gaze locked onto Juvia’s.
“I am Irene Belserion. And before I am finished, your world of wretched magic will know my name.”
A final pulse of magic tore the air beneath Juvia’s feet.
The wind howled. The ground vanished. The vortex roared, dragging her down into its spiraling maw.
Juvia screamed—
SPLASH.
Freezing water swallowed her.
Darkness closed in.
The ocean.
Cold. Deep. Indifferent.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5 – A Stranger in Llewdor
The sea churned gray beneath a bruised sky.
Then, without warning, a shape began to rise. A sloshing puddle slithered up from the waves, rippling against the sand as though alive. From it, a blue-haired girl slowly pulled herself into being, drenched from head to toe.
Her Fairy Tail uniform sagged heavily with water. Her hat drooped sideways in surrender.
“...Ow…” she groaned, staggering forward. “Where the heck is Juvia?”
Above her, rainclouds brooded—but these were not hers.
Torn from the world she knew. Hurled into the unknown.
Around her stretched only silence: jagged outlines of crooked buildings lost in fog, their stone-paved streets glistening with damp. No chatter. No guildhall. No comforting hum of magic in the air.
Only isolation.
For the first time in years, Juvia Lockser felt truly alone.

The Village
She followed the beach inland until a warped wooden sign creaked in the mist. It hung above a tilted door, its paint half-flaked:
THE DRUNKEN SCUPPER TAVERN
Inside, the ceiling was low, the air thick with smoke. Locals hunched over mismatched tables, sipping grog, their eyes narrowing as the soggy stranger dripped across their floorboards.
Juvia pushed through the stares and sloshed toward the bar.
Behind it stood a young blonde woman, wiping a mug with a rag that had long given up on cleanliness. She blinked at Juvia once, then snorted.
“Wow,” she said. “You look like you swam here straight from the storm gods themselves.”
“Juvia needs help,” the mage said, weary. “She doesn’t know where she is.”
The waitress tilted her head. “Did you just… appear outta nowhere or something?”
“You could say that. Juvia doesn’t recognize this place. Is it far from Magnolia?”
The woman stared, then burst into raucous laughter. A few patrons joined in.
“Sweetie, I don’t know how in the seven hells you got here,” she chuckled, “but once you’re in Llewdor, you don’t leave.”
Juvia blinked. “...Llewdor?”
“That’s right. This dreary little pit is called Llewdor. No guilds. No cities. Just villages, thieves, and misery. And you—what are you supposed to be, some kind of traveling circus act?”
“Juvia is not a circus performer!” she protested. “She is a proud Fairy Tail mage!”
“Fairy… tell?” the woman drawled. “Never heard of it. And I don’t think you’re in that ‘Fiore’ of yours anymore.”
Juvia’s shoulders slumped. The words echoed like stones dropped into her chest.
The waitress leaned closer, her humor fading. “Listen, honey. You may be a mage, but around here there’s only one: Manannan. Wizard. Lives alone in a tower. And you don’t want him knowing you exist.”
“Manannan?”
“Top dog,” she said, grimacing. “Evil. Old. Bearded. Dresses in black. Ugly as a barnacle. You can’t miss him.”
“Do you think… he can send Juvia back home?”
The tavern erupted in cruel laughter. But the waitress didn’t smile. Her voice dropped low.
“Helpful? That monster bleeds us for taxes. Punishes anyone who resists. Worse—he kidnaps boys. Young ones. He enslaves them, forces them to cook and clean until they vanish. The last one disappeared two days ago.”
Her eyes hardened. “If he sees you? I hope you like scrubbing floors with your eyebrows.”
Juvia’s face darkened. “Juvia is not afraid. She has faced worse. If this Manannan tries anything, she will defeat him.”
To prove her point, she raised her hands and summoned two spirals of water. They shimmered faintly—then sputtered out like dying candles.
She stared, shaken. The waitress only shook her head.
“Cute trick. But listen, girl: no matter what you can do, don’t get near Manannan. He hates mages. And he’ll kill you.”
“Juvia is not afraid!” she snapped. “A member of Fairy Tail never gives up. She will take Manannan out before he even blinks!”
The tavern fell silent. Then the laughter returned—low, pitying.
“You’re not the first to say that,” the woman muttered. “Everyone who marches up that mountain ends up dead, or worse.”
But Juvia only turned on her heel. “Thank you for the warning. But Juvia can take care of herself.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you…”

The Mountain
Llewdor stretched out like a broken storybook—scraggly forests, crumbling cliffs, villages beaten by wind. In the far distance, high on a jagged mountain, a black tower stabbed the clouds.
“So that’s where Juvia must go…”
Fog swirled around her boots as she climbed. Each step made the air heavier, as if something ancient stirred, watching her.
At the mountain’s base, lightning cracked.
An old man in a black tunic materialized, his long beard stark white, his face a map of wrinkles. His eyes, though—bottomless pits of disdain.
“Who are you,” he rasped, “to trespass upon my mountain?”
“Are you Manannan? Juvia demands to be returned home!”
“Insolent girl,” he hissed. “You dare command me?”
“Juvia wants no trouble. She was banished here by force.”
His nostrils flared. “You reek of magic. How interesting…”
“Juvia is a proud Fairy Tail mage! The strongest water mage in—”
CRACK. Thunder split the sky. A bolt seared the ground at her feet.
Juvia instantly dissolved into water, lashing forward like a serpent.
But in a blink, Manannan vanished and reappeared before her. He raised one hand.
A black ray slammed into her chest. The force hurled her back against a boulder, the impact rattling her bones.
Gasping, she staggered up, eyes blazing. “WATER SLICER!”
Nothing.
She tried again, more frantic. “WATER SLICER!!”
Still nothing. Her palms were empty. Her magic had vanished like smoke in the wind.
She stared at her hands, horror swallowing her. “Juvia’s magic is… gone!”
Manannan smiled thinly.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: The Tower and the Witch
Juvia Lockser hit the stone floor with a bone-jarring thud as Manannan’s teleportation spell completed. The world of coastal fog and salt vanished; in its place was shadowed stone and damp silence. She was inside his tower now—an airless tomb where even hope felt strangled.
The chamber was cold, windowless, lit only by flickering green torches that spat sparks like dying fireflies. Old tapestries clung to the crumbling walls, stitched with runes that pulsed faintly, like veins of sickly light. Two crooked doors branched off, and a staircase twisted upward like a broken spine.
Manannan’s voice slithered from the gloom.
“You are certainly a welcome addition,” he said, stepping forward, his boots scraping against cracked tiles. “It has been a while since I’ve seen a new face on my island. That fool Gwydion left under… unforeseen circumstances. But I think I have a new Gwydion in my hands.”
His smile was thin, cruel, his teeth faintly yellowed.
“You’re lucky, girl. Serving me is a privilege.”
Juvia recoiled, fury in her eyes.
“Juvia will never serve you, old creep!” She flung her arms outward. “WATER NEBULA!”
Nothing.
Her hands trembled. She tried again. “WATER SLICER!” Still nothing. A third time, voice cracking: “WATER LOCK!” Not even a droplet formed.
Manannan chuckled, low and delighted. “Still defiant, even after I sealed your magic? You mages are always the same. That is why breaking you is such a pleasure.”
“Juvia would like to see you try.”
“Oh?” His grin widened. “Then let’s begin.”
With a flick of his fingers, Juvia’s body betrayed her. Her limbs jerked violently, flung into motion against her will. Arms shot up, legs kicked, her hips twisted in grotesque rhythm—until she realized, with horror, she was being forced to dance the YMCA. Her body convulsed in humiliating shapes, exhaustion ripping through her muscles as Manannan laughed like a drunkard at a puppet show.
When it ended, she collapsed to her knees, gasping, sweat slick on her skin.
“You have no magic,” Manannan said, his voice slow and venomous. “You’re nothing but a lamb. And lambs serve.”
He sneered, waving dismissively.
“Go upstairs. End of the hallway. You’ll find your new attire there. I don’t like what you’re wearing—it reeks of pride. You will change. Then sweep the halls.”
In a puff of black smoke, he vanished, leaving Juvia crumpled on the cold stone.
Her vision blurred. A single tear slid down her cheek. She wiped it away with a trembling hand.
“I will not cry for him…”
Dragging her aching body up the twisted staircase, she pushed open the final door. The room reeked of mildew and dust. Hanging from a rusted hook was a scullery maid’s outfit: a threadbare gray dress, a frayed apron with stains she dared not identify, and a bonnet that smelled faintly of smoke.
Her heart clenched. Slowly, painfully, she removed her Fairy Tail uniform—the last symbol of home, of dignity—and folded it as if it were a shroud. Then, with shaking fingers, she dressed herself in defeat.

Elsewhere, in Fiore — Twilight Ogre
The guild doors exploded off their hinges with a deafening crack.
A gust of unnatural wind howled through the hall, scattering papers, toppling mugs, and extinguishing every torch in a heartbeat.
And then she stepped through.
Crimson braids cascading over a black cloak. Heels clicking like a judge’s gavel on polished wood. An aura that pressed down like a thunderstorm, heavy and suffocating.
Irene Belserion had arrived.
The Twilight Ogre mages leapt to their feet, shouting in alarm. Magic circles blazed to life—only to sputter into harmless sparks.
“What the hell—?!”
“My spell—!”
“You are all so noisy,” Irene said softly, her voice cutting sharper than any scream. “So weak. So vile.”
She raised her hand. Her magic pulsed outward in a single ripple, like a stone dropped into a pond. The nearest men screamed as their bodies warped—legs shriveling, torsos compressing, arms bending backward into twitching feelers. Their shrieks became high-pitched chitters as they collapsed into cockroaches, antennae writhing.
Irene’s boot rose.
CRUNCH.
She ground the first under her heel, then the second, then the third. The others scuttled for cover—only to meet the same fate, each squelch echoing like punctuation.
“That,” Irene murmured, “is the form that suits a pack of vermin like you.”
The rest of the guild faltered. A few dropped their weapons. Others bolted for the exit—futile. Irene moved through them like a storm front, every gesture unraveling their spells, every step sending bodies flying as if the air itself rejected them.
Irene did not kill them all, she deliberately left some mages untouched, trembling in corners. " You are lucky" she said "I would kill you all, but I need, at least, some of you alive..." At last she reached the guildmaster’s office, Banaboster. With a single kick, the heavy door exploded off its hinges.
The fat man inside whimpered beneath his desk, trembling. Irene reached down and dragged him out by his collar, lifting him like a rag doll.
“Twilight Ogre,” she said with venom, “you prey on the weak and kneel to the strong. You are the perfect example of the rot that poisons this world.”
“Please, wait, I—”
Her boot cut off his plea with a savage kick to the ribs. He cried out, but Irene was merciless. She stomped again, and again, until the floor beneath him was stained.
“This world ruined me. Shattered me. And now I will return the favor—one guild at a time.”
That night, Twilight Ogre ceased to exist.
And no one dared speak of it again.
Because no one survived to tell the tale.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: The Dust Beneath Her Fingernails
Juvia Lockser had scrubbed every surface she could reach in Manannan’s tower, yet filth seemed endless. Grease clung to the kitchen hearth like a second skin. The stairwell walls wept black soot, no matter how many rags she shredded against them.
And then there was the chamber pot.
The stench rose like a living thing, acrid enough to choke a wyvern. Juvia gagged, scrubbing furiously while tears burned at her eyes. The grime got beneath her nails, turning her hands raw and red. She whispered into the rank air, her voice cracking but stubborn.
“Juvia is an S-Class mage… not some scared little girl…”
Her back ached, her pride bled out through her fingertips.
That was when he appeared.
A burst of black smoke, acrid and sharp, coiled into the air behind her. Manannan’s silhouette emerged, tall and angular, like a gargoyle carved from rot. His eyes gleamed like bogfire as his thin lips curled into a scowl.
“I am going to take a nap,” he said flatly, arms crossed. “Do not disturb me… if you value what’s left of your skin.”
And then—gone. The smoke collapsed into nothing, leaving only the stink of grave soil.
Juvia froze. She waited—one minute. Two. Three. Was it a trick? A test? Her pulse thundered in her ears. At last, with trembling hands, she set down the filthy rag and slipped out the door.

The Village
The night outside was cold and gray. Clouds swallowed the moon, letting through only a thin, sickly light. Juvia padded down the cracked stone road in her scullery uniform—damp, torn, dust-streaked. Her blue hair clung to her cheeks, stiff with sweat and grease. The ocean breeze caught her face, a cruel echo of home.
The village beyond was no true village, but a skeleton of one. Shacks leaned like drunks, roofs sagging under moss and ivy. Fences were collapsed, chimneys cracked, lanterns guttering as if they too were tired of burning.
She moved silently. No one stopped her, but eyes lingered in the shadows—watchful, wary. Their stares said plainly: you don’t belong here.
No guild banners. No laughter spilling from taverns. Only silence and the crunch of gravel beneath her shoes.
At last she saw it—a squat, domed structure of stone, its walls weathered to a dull gray. Ivy clawed across its roof, clinging like dead fingers. A rotting sign swung above the entrance:
The Archival Hall of Llewdor
Juvia’s breath caught.
“A library…”
Books meant knowledge. Knowledge meant hope. Maybe a spell to restore her magic. Maybe a way home.
The doors, however, refused her. Swollen by rain, warped by time, they would not budge. She shoved with her shoulder, her palms, even braced her back against them—but nothing.
“Of course,” she muttered bitterly. “Because nothing in this cursed place is easy.”
Peering through the keyhole, she saw only dust and broken furniture. Yet in the very center, illuminated by a pale shaft of moonlight, lay a single open book. Waiting.
Her heart skipped.
“That book… it’s calling to Juvia…”
Around the side, she found a stack of crates beneath a narrow window. The frame was cracked open, just enough for a draft to slip through.
“This is a very bad idea,” she whispered, but still climbed.
The crates wobbled. Her bare feet slid against damp wood. She clutched the window frame, tugging hard. It did not move.
“Tch—Water Slicer!” Her hand whipped—
Nothing. No shimmer, no blade. Just silence.
Her jaw clenched. “Right. No magic.”
She yanked harder. The crates beneath her gave way with a thunderous CRACK.
Juvia tumbled, limbs flailing, face smashing into the dirt. Splinters stabbed her hands and arms. A cloud of dust rose in mockery.
“OOOWWW!!” she wailed, clutching her bruised nose. “Juvia is not built for this kind of pain!”
The window remained intact. The book remained unread. Her magic remained gone.
Shaking with humiliation, she limped back to the tower as the first colors of dawn crept into the horizon.

The Tower Again
Her uniform hung in tatters. Her body ached. Pride felt eaten alive by insects. Yet she had no choice but to return.
Juvia threw herself into scrubbing the nearest floor tile, muttering curses and apologies under her breath. She was halfway through when the tower boomed with his voice:
“I AM RAVENOUS! BRING ME A MEAL, WOMAN!”
Her forehead thunked against the stone. “…Juvia just wants her magic back.”

The Kitchen
The kitchen was a grave. Soot blackened every corner, mold crusted the rafters, cobwebs veiled the beams. A green fire crackled in the hearth, burning on enchanted wood that never fully died. A pot of porridge bubbled, its lumpy surface belching steam.
Juvia stirred with a battered spoon, shoulders hunched, hair tied back in a messy knot. Her rags stank of grease.
Juvia Lockser, she thought, the words tolling like a funeral bell. S-Class mage. A Fairy Tail wizard. Now? A slave. A mop. A cleaner of filth for an evil old man in a forgotten tower.
She imagined Lucy laughing at the sight. She imagined Gray turning his eyes away, ashamed. The thought was a knife.
Her lip trembled. She wiped her cheek with her sooty hand before a tear could fall.
The tower shuddered with his voice again. “– HURRY, LASS!”
Juvia flinched. Her fists clenched. If Juvia had her magic… she would flood your stupid tower until it drowns you inside.

The Dining Hall
The dining hall was not a room but a wound. Pale blue candles floated along the walls, casting corpselike light. At the head loomed a black tapestry, stitched with impossible geography—rivers climbing mountains, cities labeled in languages that should not exist, veins pulsing faintly beneath the fabric.
Manannan sat at the long oak table, his robes a pool of ink, his skin pallid and stretched tight over sharp bones. His talon-like nails drummed the wood.
Juvia carried the porridge like an offering, spine stiff though her gaze was lowered.
You don’t even trim your claws, you vile old toad.
He slurped slowly, smacked his lips. Then:
“Why did you come to my island? Who sent you?”
Juvia’s jaw clenched. “Juvia was thrown here… by a mage. A woman named Irene. She warped space. Juvia didn’t ask to come here. Not for gold. Not for power.”
He snorted. “A ridiculous story. Likely you’re one of the villagers, conspiring. I strip intruders of their powers and end them. You should be grateful I let you live. Tell me, droplet, where are you from?”
“…Fiore,” she hissed.
“Ah, Fiore. The land of guilds. Petty children beating each other with parlor tricks, no grasp of ancient magic. And you, girl—you belonged to one of them?”
Juvia straightened. “Juvia is a Fairy Tail mage. And proud of it.”
“Fairy Tail,” he chuckled. “What a sweet little name. A bedtime story.”
Her rage erupted.
“Do not insult Juvia’s guild!” Her voice cracked like thunder, shaking the candles. “They are Juvia’s family! Brave, kind, human—more human than you, you dried-up corpse!”
The hall went still.
Then—BOOM.
An invisible hammer struck her chest. She flew across the room, slammed into the stone wall with a crack that rattled her bones. Pain spidered through her ribs. Blood filled her mouth.
Still—she rose. Trembling, she raised her hand. “Water Dome!!”
Nothing. No mist. No shimmer.
Her magic was still gone.
Manannan rose, strolling toward her with quiet amusement. “Stupid droplet. You’re not in your guild anymore. You’re not even a mage.”
He passed her, dismissing her like dust. “I tend to strip, torture, then kill intruding mages. But you appeared the day after that wretched brat Gwydion vanished. Consider yourself lucky. Clean my study. I want the scrying basin polished until you can see your worthless face reflected in it.”
A flick of his clawed hand—green smoke swallowed him whole.
Juvia slid down the wall, clutching her side. Tears welled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. But they were not sorrow.
They were rage.
And rage remembers.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: Drip, Drip, Drop
The next day began like every other.
Juvia Lockser, once a proud S-Class mage of Fairy Tail, now scrubbed the stones of a crumbling fortress with a rag that had once been white but was now little more than a smear of filth. The bucket beside her sloshed with gray water that stank faintly of rot and iron.
Her knees scraped against the cold floor. The joints in her fingers ached from endless scrubbing. The chill of the stone seeped into her bones, deeper each day, as if the tower itself was leeching her warmth away. Dust and grime clung to the air like fog. Every timber groaned. Every wall whispered hatred of the wind.
That morning, she had already emptied Manannan’s chamber pot, nearly retching at the stench. A cruel joke: the old wizard could bend space and twist time, but still made her clean his filth with her bare hands.
When he left his study, she slipped inside to clean. Dust settled faster than she could wipe. The air reeked of ink, mold, and something older—like dried blood and wet ashes. She didn’t ask what he did in there. She didn’t want to know.
She stepped into the hallway, bucket in hand—
THWUMP.
The air twisted inward, sucking the breath from her lungs. A gust of foul wind burst against her, carrying a sickly green light.
Manannan stood before her like a waking nightmare. His robes fluttered without wind. His eyes blazed with swamp-fire light.
“Too slow,” he hissed. His voice scraped against the walls. “Your sloth is unforgivable.”
Before she could speak, his magic struck.
CRACK.
Juvia slammed against the stone wall. The bucket flew from her hand. Filthy water splashed over her feet.
She gasped, chest heaving. Pain lanced her ribs.
“In only one day,” Manannan snarled, “you’ve proven your worthlessness. And worse—you dared speak back to me.”
He raised a clawed hand, green runes swirling like burning chains.
“It’s time you learned a lesson you’ll never forget.”
Terror gripped her chest. She clawed backward along the stone, voice breaking into a scream.
“No! Someone—please—help Juvia!”
And then—
CRASH!!
The ceiling above exploded in a storm of light and falling stone. A shadow dropped through the dust.
A figure landed in a crouch, tall and broad-shouldered, shirtless, ice already freezing along his arms.
Gray.
“Juvia!” he shouted. “I found you!”
Her heart seized. Tears burst from her eyes.
“Gray-samaaaaaa!” she sobbed, throwing herself toward him. “He humiliated Juvia! He made her a servant! He was going to—he was going to—!”
Gray’s jaw clenched. His eyes were knives of frost.
“I’ll kill him.”
He turned to Manannan. “You laid a hand on her.” Frost coiled at his fingertips. “That was your last mistake. Ice-Make: CANNON!”
A colossal blast of frozen power slammed into Manannan, hurling him through a stone column.
Juvia clutched Gray’s hands, trembling.
“I missed you every second, Gray. Every heartbeat. Every breath.”
He cupped her face. “And I missed you too, Juvia. I’d cross the world to reach you.”
Her tears glittered like jewels. “Kiss me, Gray. Please… kiss Juvia now.”
Their lips neared—
PLONK!
She hit the floor face-first. The cold stone smacked her nose. Pain flared.
“…Great,” she muttered into the floor. “Just great.”
Juvia sat up, rubbing her forehead. The dream was gone.
No Gray. No warmth. No rescue.
Just the same gray walls. Same flickering torchlight. Same smell of damp stone and despair.
She staggered back to her bed—a mat stuffed with more dust than straw—and collapsed.
The silence pressed in like water.
Her lips still tingled from the dream’s almost-kiss, but all she tasted was dust.
Juvia stared at the ceiling.
It had felt so real. But Gray wasn’t here. He wasn’t coming. Neither was Erza. Or Natsu. Or Lucy.
She was alone again.
Like before. Before Phantom Lord. Before Fairy Tail.

Flashback time
A little girl with damp blue hair stood at the edge of a playground, clutching a soaked umbrella. The other children laughed, chasing each other through sunlight.
She gathered her courage, stepped forward, tried to say hello.
The clouds answered her nervousness. A stormlet swirled above her. Rain spilled down.
“Ew! I’m soaked!” one boy groaned.
“Ugh, she’s like a walking sprinkler!” a girl complained.
“Why don’t you just water the lawn, freak?” another laughed.
The laughter wasn’t cruel. It was casual. As if she weren’t even a person. As if her pain was just part of the weather.

Back in her cell, Juvia buried her face in her hands and let herself sob. Manannan wasn’t around. For once, she could afford to.
She cried for Fairy Tail. For her friends. For herself.
But eventually, her tears dried.
“Juvia is an S-Class mage,” she whispered.
“Juvia will escape.”
“Juvia will see Gray-sama again.”
Her voice steadied.
“Drip, drip, drop. Juvia is the rain woman. S-Class mage.”
“Drip, drip, drop.”
Outside, the skies opened. Rain tapped against the tower stones in rhythm with her mantra.
Drip, drip, drop.
Almost like the storm itself was listening. Or laughing.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: The Girl Who Survived
Morning sunlight slithered past the ragged curtains and painted streaks of gold across the cold stone floor of Manannan’s tower. It crawled like an intruder—uninvited, unwelcome, far too gentle for such a cruel place.
The light reached Juvia Lockser’s eyelids and tugged her from shallow, dreamless sleep.
She groaned, eyes cracking open against the pale gray.
Same ceiling. Same rot-stained mortar. Same hay poking through the sackcloth of her crude bedroll. Her back ached with the kind of fatigue that sleep couldn’t fix.
And—as always—the first thing she saw was that damnable cat.
Perched on a three-legged stool by the door, the creature blinked at her with gleaming yellow eyes. Its fur was a patchy black, mottled with strange white spots like old burn scars. Its tail twitched slowly. Methodically. A sentry clocking her every breath.
It hissed. Long and low. The sound echoed faintly in the chamber, unnatural, like a word stretched into venom.
Something about the way its tail lashed the dust on the floor made her skin crawl. The strokes almost resembled… symbols. Runes half-formed and scattered before dissolving.
Juvia’s lips curled.
“Juvia also hates you, you mangy creature,” she croaked, voice hoarse from dust and disuse.
The cat’s ears flattened. Its yellow eyes narrowed as though it understood. Then, with deliberate arrogance, it leapt down, brushing her ankles with a rasp of static. It slunk into the corridor, its tail vanishing like a shadow into the dark.
Juvia sat up slowly, spine cracking. Every movement tugged at some new bruise, some lingering ache. Her arms were sore from scrubbing ancient floors. Her fingers chafed raw from hauling buckets of stale water.
Without thinking, she touched her hair. Greasy. Matted. It clung to her face like seaweed after a shipwreck.
She rose and stumbled toward the mirror—a warped square of metal nailed to the wall. It reflected little more than suggestion, but enough. Enough to twist her stomach.
Pale cheeks. Hollow eyes. A crust of dried blood at the corner of her lip she hadn’t noticed before. Blue strands clung to her forehead. Her lips cracked and colorless.
Once, people said Juvia was beautiful. Mysterious. Elegant.
Now she looked like something the tide forgot to drown properly.
If Gray-sama saw Juvia now… he would find her hideous.
A single tear welled in her right eye. She caught it before it could fall.
“No. No crying. Never again. Never give him the satisfaction.”
Her voice was barely a whisper, but it hardened her. She turned from the mirror, jaw tight, fists clenched. The moment passed. Another would come. They always did.

INT. MANANNAN’S STUDY – LATER
The air in the tower was heavy with the smell of mildew and burnt parchment. Juvia moved mechanically now—cleaning without thought, without intention. Just motion. Scrub, wipe, straighten.
She hadn’t seen Manannan this morning. Perhaps he had vanished to some abyssal mountaintop to whisper curses at the stars. Or perhaps he was lurking nearby, invisible, watching.
The thought made her skin crawl.
Still, she dared to enter his study. Dust blanketed every surface again, as though the tower itself tried to bury its own secrets.
The door creaked behind her.
The cat bolted across the hall, brushing against her ankles, nearly tripping her.
“Juvia would Water-Slice every hair off your hideous body…” she muttered through clenched teeth.
The study was suffocating. Each swipe of her rag sent motes of dust swirling through beams of sunlight slicing the gloom. Cobwebs stretched like veins across the bookshelves. Each tome groaned with age, their spines bulging with forbidden weight.
And then—her eyes froze.
A single book, nestled between two grimoires, protruded just a fraction. Not by accident. Too deliberate. Too inviting.
Her hand lifted. Trembling. Reaching—
THWUMP.
The air thickened. Pressure collapsed around her like an invisible vice. Magic surged like a held breath.
She didn’t need to turn.
“Your sloth is unbearable, girl.”
Her blood froze.
Smoke curled into the room, acrid and sulfurous, and there he was.
Manannan. In his tattered robes of blackened wool, his hood a shroud over a pale, wrinkled face. His yellowed eyes gleamed like rusted lanterns. The stench of ash and old death clung to him like a second skin.
He looked at her the way a spider looks at a fly caught in its silk.
“If you don’t finish the dusting in five minutes,” he said, voice like gravel soaked in venom, “you won’t eat today.”
His lips curled thin. Not a smile. More like hunger.
She said nothing.
Her eyes flicked to the rafters, to the cracked ceiling where faded runes clung like scars. A silent prayer: Please… Gray-sama…
But silence answered.
“…He’s not coming. Not today. Not ever.”
The words slipped out before she could choke them back.
Manannan’s head snapped toward her.
“What was that, imbecile?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly, rag trembling in her hand.
Her knuckles went white. Erza would not cry. Juvia would not cry. Not in front of him.
She finished the dusting. Just in time.
Manannan’s eyes swept the room with the cold detachment of a coroner surveying a corpse. They paused on her once. Then moved on.
“I’ve decided to take a journey,” he said at last. “You’d better be here when I return, droplet.”
He spat the word like it was sweet on his tongue.
Then—smoke, sulfur, and he was gone.
The air lightened. Just barely.
Juvia collapsed against the desk, heart hammering. But she had not cried.
Not today.

EXT. THE VILLAGE – SHORTLY AFTER
As soon as silence swallowed the tower, Juvia moved.
She snatched a small, rusted knife from the kitchen—its bone handle slick with age—and tucked it into her sash. It was dull, but it was something.
Then she slipped out the back door, cloak tight around her shoulders. The fog had not yet lifted from the cliffs. Good.
She hurried past the forest’s edge. Past the twisted garden beds long gone to rot. Past the crooked sign pointing toward the ruins of the village.
Until—there it was again.
The library.
It loomed like a sunken tomb. Stone cracked and walls strangled by ivy. Gutters eaten through with rust.
Juvia rearranged the crates from the night before—moldy wood and termite-bitten barrels stacked like makeshift ladders. She climbed carefully, knife at her belt, and pried open the warped window.
CRRRRAK.
The frame gave way. She tumbled inside.
“OOOOOWWWWW!!” she yelped, landing face-first in a mound of old books. “Juvia misses turning into water…”
The scent of mildew and paper rot filled her lungs. Groaning, she pushed herself upright, blinking dust from her lashes.
The book lay open still, exactly where she’d found it.
She crawled toward it, fingers trembling, and turned the fragile pages.
Diary of Gwydion.
The name struck like thunder. She knew it. The last slave.
The entries were smudged but legible. She whispered them aloud:
“Today, he turned me into a fly—just to remind me how worthless I am. I can’t defeat him by normal means. But I discovered a hidden passage in the library. There’s a spellbook there. It may be my only chance. If he finds out… I’m dead.”
Juvia’s throat tightened. Her hand hovered over the ink.
“A hidden passage…” she breathed.
She clutched the diary to her chest. Another survivor. Another prisoner. She wasn’t alone.
Then she saw it.
A second book, smaller, its blue cover ornate, its silver script faded but still gleaming.
Legends and Myths of the Blue.
On its cover, an enormous orca-like creature surged from the waves, red markings etched like flames across its body.
It shimmered faintly.
Something stirred inside her. A pulse deep in her blood.
“…Juvia will read this later,” she whispered. “Something about this…”
She bundled both books in her arms and staggered to the front entrance. Her hand wrapped around the handle.
It opened.
Miraculously, it opened.
Cold daylight kissed her face. The wind brushed against her like freedom.
Then—
“Juvia…?”
The voice was soft. Trembling.
She froze.
A teenage girl stood just beyond the path, staring as though she’d seen a ghost.
Short pink hair. Mud-streaked cloak. Eyes wide with disbelief.
Someone Juvia had once fought. Someone from Grimoire Heart.
A former Kin of Purgatory.
“Merudy???” Juvia gasped, her voice breaking with shock.

Chapter Text

hapter 10: Echoes from Tenrou

The back alley behind the tavern was damp, reeking of ash, spoiled ale, and rot. Juvia Lockser stood frozen, heart pounding, eyes wide. Her breath caught as her gaze locked onto a figure with short pink hair and wary eyes.

Her mouth opened.

“MERUDYYYYYYY!!”

The scream tore through the alley. Before the girl could react, Juvia slammed into her like a tidal wave, arms flung around her waist in a bone-crushing hug.

“Hey—wait—ACK—calm down!” the girl yelped, flailing helplessly. “You’re going to kill me—with this hug—I can’t breathe!”

Juvia finally loosened her grip, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Juvia truly thought she would never see anyone from Earthland again. Especially not someone from the guild world…”

The pink-haired girl stepped back, catching her breath. Her gaze flicked over Juvia’s ragged scullery dress, her pale face, her sunken eyes.
“…Yeah. You look like hell.”

“Juvia knows.” She tried to smile. “It’s been a long time.”

“Are you really happy to see me?” the girl asked.

“What do you mean, Merudy?”

The girl frowned. “It’s Meredy.”

Juvia blinked. “Ah—sorry. Juvia must have remembered wrong.”

“…Don’t worry about it,” Meredy said, brushing it off, though her eyes softened. “But still—are you really happy to see me?”

“What do you mean?” Juvia asked.

“Well, the last time we saw each other, let’s review: I tried to kill you, and Gray, and myself. Then you smashed me against a rock like a ragdoll. Best friends forever, don’t you think?” She looked Juvia dead in the eye, her expression solemn.

“And after that, you tore down my sorrow and my rage… with a hug.”

Juvia gently reached for her hand. “Juvia doesn’t want to dwell on that. What matters is—we’re alive.”

Meredy looked down. “Thanks for your concern… but it’s not really deserved. I’ve done a lot I’m not proud of. I’ve spent the last year trying to make it mean something.”

“You haven’t changed at all,” Juvia said softly. “Juvia is glad.”

A wry smile tugged at Meredy’s lips. “Still… it’s good to see you. And I mean it. You saved me—from myself—in the least expected way.”

“Juvia is just… happy you’re alive,” she whispered.

Indeed, she had saved Meredy’s life once before—back on Tenrou Island, when the dark guild Grimoire Heart threatened everything.

Juvia paused. “But why are you here, of all places?”

Meredy’s eyes darkened. “I’m looking for someone.”

“Who?”

“…Ultear.”

Juvia’s eyes widened. “Ultear? You mean that woman with time magic—the one who... tried to kill Juvia in Tenrou?”

“I see that you, indeed...remember her” Meredy’s voice dropped.

Juvia´s face turned somber for a moment, albeit it was short-lived.

“Juvia remembers what happened later. You linked the three of us together—and tried to…” Juvia faltered. “…take your life.”

“Which is why I’m still wondering why you’re so happy to see me.” said Meredy, she certainly looked remorseful

“As Juvia said, the past is the past. And… Juvia was so lonely. She’s glad to have at least some connection to Fiore.”

Meredy studied her. “I am...also glad, to be sincere, to have found a Fiore anchor as well”

“So… is Ultear really here?” Juvia asked.

“Not exactly, but close.” Meredy’s tone grew serious. “I’ve been searching for her for months. Then I heard sailors talk about an island in the Blast Sea—a place where broken things are restored. They say a gray-haired woman lives there. Gentle. Powerful. I think… it might be her.”

“A gray-haired woman?” Juvia frowned. “Ultear was not old.”

“The story is complicated—and tied to Acnologia.”

Juvia’s eyes widened. “The black dragon that attacked Tenrou Island?”

“Correct. The most powerful dragon to ever walk the world. Everyone thought he was a myth… until Hades tried to control him. Of course, he failed. Hades was a fool. And so was I.”

“Juvia remembers. Our guildmaster, Makarov, grew giant with Titan Magic and destroyed him using a spell that employed our strenght, Juvia remembers holding hands with everyone.”

Meredy shook her head. “No. Even your king-sized guildmaster wasn’t a match for Acnologia. He could only delay the inevitable. The truth… is much darker.”

One Year Ago — Tenrou Island

The heavens split open with storm and lightning. Grimoire Heart’s flagship burned in the distance. The earth quaked in terror.

Hades, former master of Fairy Tail, stood in the battlefield’s center, staff blazing with dark magic. Around him, Fairy Tail’s strongest lay beaten and bloodied.

“You children still do not understand,” Hades thundered. “The true age of magic will not come through guilds or councils. It will come through the Dragon King. Acnologia—the divine purge!”

Natsu’s face twisted. “You’re insane! That monster kills everyone!”

“Everyone not worthy,” Hades corrected coldly. “The weak. The cattle clogging this world. Acnologia will cleanse them, leaving only those chosen by magic. A world of pure sorcery!”

Erza, crawling to her feet, spat blood. “You… would unleash genocide.”

“I would unleash truth!” His voice cracked with fervor. “The strong will ascend, the weak will perish. And I—” his grin split wide—“I will call down the Dragon Messiah!”

The sky split. A shadow vast as a mountain unfurled wings of midnight.

Acnologia.

His roar shattered cliffs and tore trees from the ground. Even the air turned unbreathable.

Hades raised his arms, ecstatic. “BEHOLD! THE END OF MEN!”

Makarov staggered forward, growing titanic. “SO LONG AS I LIVE—FAIRY TAIL WILL STAND AGAINST YOU!”

A blazing sphere of Fairy Law lit the sky and crashed into the dragon like a star. For one heartbeat, Acnologia paused.

Then he laughed.

The world shuddered. Makarov collapsed, his Titan form shrinking into a frail old man.

And above, Ultear Milkovich clenched her fists. Tears blurred her vision.

“Master… Meredy… I won’t let this world be devoured.”

The Arc of Time’s massive gear-clock spun into the heavens.

Makarov’s eyes widened. “NO, ULTEAR! THAT SPELL—IT’LL CONSUME YOU!”

She whispered, “Then let it.”

Light detonated. Time folded. Acnologia’s body unraveled into mist, his roar swallowed by silence.

Ultear’s hair bleached white, her skin cracked and wrinkled as her youth was torn away.

She smiled anyway. “Peace… Meredy.”

And vanished.

Present

“She cast a curse so powerful it erased Acnologia from the timeline,” Meredy said quietly. “But it drained her life. She aged in seconds. She vanished before we could reach her.”

Juvia covered her mouth. “She sacrificed her lifespan…”

“Exactly. She told us not to follow. Said her sins outweighed her heroism.”

“But… she saved the world,” Juvia whispered.

Meredy gave a faint smile. “Funny you’d remember fondly the woman who tried to murder you. But… that’s you, Juvia.”

Juvia tilted her head. “So officially, everyone just believes Makarov destroyed Acnologia?”

“Of course. People don’t care about truth—they’ll believe whatever nonsense they’re told. Makarov never corrected them. Maybe guilt. Maybe shame. Now… no one remembers who really paid the price.”

Juvia lowered her gaze. “Why are you so insistent on finding Ultear?”

“Because she saved me,” Meredy said fiercely. “And I won’t let her die alone. Not forgotten.”

“That’s why Meredy is here?”

“Yes. Jellal said I wouldn’t rest until I found her. So I left Crime Sorcière to search.”

“Crime Sorcière?”

“It’s… not really a guild. More of a secret organization. Jellal founded it after Ultear left—hunting dark guilds. At first, just him and me. Then, Jellal recruited some baddies from a weirdly named thing called Oración Seis, seeking redemption. Only seven of us. Small. But I couldn’t stay. Not with all the sorrow I carried.”

Juvia gently patted her back. “Jellal will understand.”

“I was on my way to the island where Ultear was last seen,” Meredy said. “A storm wrecked our ship. I washed up here. Then… Manannan found me.”

Juvia’s stomach dropped.

“He recognized me as a mage,” Meredy whispered. “Used some strange magic. He stole my magic. Maguilty Sense—gone. One second I was me… the next, I was empty.”

“Juvia understands,” she said softly. “He did the same to her.”

Meredy’s eyes widened. “You’ve been his—?”

“Slave,” Juvia said. “For almost a month. Cooking. Cleaning. Even scrubbing his chamber pot. Wearing this because he commands it.” She tugged at the filthy gray dress.

Meredy’s fists clenched. “I’ve been working at the tavern. He said I wasn’t interesting anymore. Not a threat. So I’ve been hiding. Waiting.”

Juvia reached inside her dress and pulled out a battered leather book.
“This belonged to the last slave. His name was Gwydion. He left notes—secrets. He believed something was hidden in Manannan’s study. Beneath the floorboards.”

Meredy’s eyes sharpened. “Then we wait until that bastard leaves. You unlock the door. I’ll slip away from the tavern.”

“Juvia has memorized his routine,” she said.

They clasped hands.

“We will escape,” Juvia said firmly. “Together.”

Chapter Text

The Fairy Tail guild hall felt heavier than usual, its warmth hollowed out, its laughter dulled. Shadows stretched long across the worn wooden floorboards, cast by the sinking sun and the unspoken dread that clung to the room like dust. Normally, this place rang with voices, clinking mugs, and careless cheer. Today, every sound seemed to fall flat, smothered by an absence that gnawed at the edges of the room.
At the entrance, Erza Scarlet stood with arms crossed, her armor catching dim orange light from the windows. She wasn’t speaking. She was watching—counting heads, noting absences. She had done it without thinking, the habit of a commander on the battlefield. And it only confirmed the weight already in her chest.
Someone was missing. And it wasn’t just anyone.
“Erza?” came a soft voice.
Lucy Heartfilia approached from behind, her boots clicking lightly against the wood. She sensed the tension instantly, slowing her steps as she reached Erza’s side. “You seem worried. Is something wrong?”
Erza’s voice was low, steady. “Juvia is missing. I haven’t heard anything about her for five days.”
Lucy blinked. “Five days?” Her brows furrowed in concern. “I know… the last time I saw her, she said she was going to train alone. Maybe she’s still doing that?”
Erza didn’t respond at first. Her expression darkened, lips pressing into a line. “She should have been back by now. There’s been no word. No signs. It’s like she vanished without a trace.” She paused, voice sinking. “I’m worried… she tried to take on Irene again. And Irene destroyed her.”
Lucy went still.
“Irene…” The name tasted like ash. “Do you really think she—?”
Erza’s silence answered her.
Lucy’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m sure she tried to battle her again. What if she… got caught? What if she’s hurt… or worse?”
“She’s reckless,” Erza said quietly. “And guilt makes people reckless.”
Lucy’s throat tightened. Both of them knew the incident that had driven Juvia to the edge—Gray’s injury, the failed ambush on Irene, the fallout. Juvia had taken all of it upon herself. Guilt, shame, the weight of failure—it had been eating at her since that day.
The guild doors creaked open. As if summoned by their thoughts, Gray Fullbuster walked slowly inside. His black cane tapped against the floor with each step, his left leg still healing from the searing wound Irene had carved into him. His shirt hung loose, the bandages beneath visible with every motion. His hair was messy, his eyes tired. Haunted.
The chatter in the guild lowered further, like the room itself held its breath. Gray ignored it, moving past the others until he reached Erza and Lucy. He stopped a few feet from them, catching the last words of their conversation.
Lucy turned to him, her voice gentle but urgent. “Gray... do you know anything? Did Juvia say anything about where she was going? Did she talk to you at all?”
Gray’s expression flickered—just for a moment. Something bitter, almost ashamed, passed through his features. Then he shrugged.
“Why should I?” he muttered. “I’m not Juvia’s babysitter. She does what she wants. She’s probably just... trying to handle things on her own, like always.”
Lucy frowned, unconvinced. She glanced at Erza, but the redhead only narrowed her eyes. Gray avoided both their gazes, shifting his weight onto his good leg.
Inside, his thoughts screamed.
You went after her, didn’t you? You idiot... After everything... after what happened to me… you still think you can make up for it by throwing yourself at that monster.
The memory clawed up through his chest—Irene’s smile, crimson fire, his own scream as pain lanced through him. The world fading into blackness, and Juvia’s voice breaking in terror before silence swallowed it all.
His stomach twisted. His hand clenched hard against the cane.
He swallowed it down, forcing his face into indifference. Hiding was easier. Pretending was easier.
“She’ll be fine,” Gray said aloud, forcing a shrug that looked careless but felt like splintered glass. “Juvia’s tougher than anyone gives her credit for.”
Lucy didn’t look convinced. Her hands clenched at her sides. “I just… I wish she’d told someone. Anything. Even me.”
Erza’s eyes narrowed, voice heavy with quiet urgency. “We need to find her. But we don’t know where to start.”
The silence that followed was thick and heavy, pressing down on all three of them. The sounds of the guild had become background static—footsteps, hushed whispers, the scrape of chairs. But in that circle of stillness, the world seemed to shrink.
Gray looked away, jaw clenched, guilt gnawing at him like a starving wolf.
Juvia, you idiot... what have you done this time?

Far away, beneath the cold stone vaults of a ruined fortress, another drama unfolded.
Banaboster, the once-proud boss of Twilight Ogre, knelt on trembling knees before her. Irene Belserion towered over him like a force of nature—regal, cruel, and utterly indifferent. Her crimson eyes glimmered with disdain as if his very existence was an insult.
He had thought himself strong. He had lived through Erza Scarlet’s wrath, through Mirajane’s rage. But this? This was something else. A presence that made his heart falter just by existing.
Around him, the other prisoners—mages from Twilight Ogre and Yellow Chimera—stood paralyzed, frozen in invisible bindings. Their mouths worked soundlessly, eyes wide with terror. They were alive, but not free.
Irene’s voice finally cut through the silence. Smooth, precise. Glacial.
“You will have the honor of being part of my army. A tool of vengeance. A fitting end for trash like you.”
Banaboster stammered, voice breaking. “W-What… what are you going to do with me?”
Her lips curled into a cold smile.
“You will play a part in cleansing this world of your kind. You should be proud to hold such a… privilege.”
Her staff rose. The air thickened, crackling with unnatural power. Banaboster screamed as his body glowed unnaturally, limbs contorting, melting away from flesh and bone into something wrong. His cries turned to wet, broken gargles before silence claimed him.
When the light faded, he was gone.
In his place stood a pale, twisted thing—a humanoid husk with long, spindly limbs, its skin white as bone. Its face was warped into a grotesque mask of sorrow, a parody of grief carved into flesh.
The chamber filled with gasps.
“What did she do???”
“Who the hell are you???”
“Please... Please no…”
Irene ignored them. She regarded the creature as a sculptor might study her latest work.
“You are now my soldier,” she told the husk. “You will obey without question.”
The Dusk twitched. Then, with an alien motion, it flipped upside down, scuttling along the ceiling with jerking, insectile grace. The captives recoiled in horror.
Irene’s staff turned again, pointing toward another mage.
This one—a young woman—screamed, trying to summon magic even as her body betrayed her. Sparks flared around her hands before vanishing. She shrieked as her body convulsed, compressing and twisting. Her form bent in on itself until she was no longer human—only a bizarre creature with a massive head balanced on thin legs, featureless and blind.
And then—before the horrified eyes of the captives—it shimmered. Its form shifted, collapsing into a sleek, wicked sword that hovered in the air like a predator waiting to strike. A Creeper.
“No!” someone cried. “Not her! Please, gods, no!”
Irene turned at last, letting her gaze sweep across the rows of prisoners. Their terror fed her. She drank it in.
“Once a mage loses their magic,” she said sweetly, “they lose everything else—their soul, their identity. They become what you see: a Nobody.”
Her smile widened.
“No will. No heart. No future. I have studied this phenomenon for centuries... and now, I have perfected it. Soon, all of you will serve in my army.”
The captives trembled, some sobbing, others glaring with futile rage. A few struggled against the invisible bonds, sparks of defiance flashing in their eyes.
“Fight, if you wish,” Irene said coolly. “It changes nothing.”
With a flick of her staff, glyphs erupted across the chamber floor. One by one, the prisoners convulsed, their cries warping into inhuman tones. Bodies melted, broke, reshaped. Some became twisted creatures with jagged anatomy and twitching limbs. Others shrank and compressed into floating weapons, spinning lazily in the air.
The chamber filled with the sickening sounds of magic warping flesh—the tearing of skin, the snap of bone, the shrill of muffled screams. And over it all, Irene’s voice lingered like a lullaby.
“Serve me… or cease to exist.”

Chapter Text

A Long Time Ago, in Phantom Lord Headquarters...
The Phantom Lord guild hall was always dark.
Stone pillars loomed on either side like silent sentinels, and arcane torches sputtered from iron sconces, casting shadows that writhed across the stone floor. The air smelled of wet metal, stale beer, and magic too sharp to breathe comfortably. This was not a place for warmth. This was a place where cruelty was currency, and only the strong thrived.
In a far corner of the mess hall sat a single table, drenched in gloom. At it sat a girl.
Blue-haired. Quiet. Dripping wet despite being indoors.
Juvia Lockser.
She didn’t eat. She didn’t speak. She only sat there with her hands folded in her lap, eyes lowered, posture shrinking into the chair as though she wished she could disappear. Above her head floated a small gray raincloud that drizzled steadily, the droplets splashing down her shoulders and pooling across the floor.
Her personal curse.
Ever since José recruited her, the rain had followed. Never stopping. Never letting her breathe in sunshine.
The other guild members gave her a wide berth. Phantom Lord prided itself on power and prestige, not pity. To them she wasn’t strong — she was strange. An omen. A nuisance.
Then came the footsteps. Heavy. Confident.
Predatory.
Juvia felt him before she saw him.
Gajeel Redfox.
He appeared out of the shadows, arms crossed, iron piercings glinting like teeth under the torchlight. His scowl was carved into his face, his aura heavy as a steel chain.
He stopped behind her, staring down like a hawk over its prey.
— So… you’re the new mage José dragged in, — he said, his voice thick with contempt. — Is he really scraping the bottom of the barrel now? Look at you. A little thing like you’d shatter if someone yelled too loud.
Juvia turned slowly. Her eyes never met his. They remained fixed on the floor, lips trembling with the effort of holding back words.
The raincloud above her thickened.
Gajeel sneered. — A human raincloud. Great. What are you gonna do, drizzle our enemies into submission?
Silence.
That silence irritated him. He stepped closer, boots splashing in the puddle she had created.
— I’m talking to you, drizzle-girl! You think you’re too good to answer me just ‘cause José wanted you here? Huh? That it? Your rain’s pissing everyone off. Killing the mood. Turn it off.
Her hands curled tighter in her lap. Still nothing.
— Please... — she murmured, barely audible, her voice soft and trembling like the rain itself. — Leave Juvia alone…
He froze, then barked out a dark laugh.
— Oh, wow. She talks in third person. Like a toddler. What’s next, you gonna cry for mama?
The words cut deep.
Juvia’s shoulders quivered. The cloud above her darkened to a storm, water spilling over nearby tables, soaking the wood.
— You’re soaking me, you idiot! — Gajeel snarled, wiping droplets from his jaw. — Make it stop. NOW.
Her breath hitched. Her eyes shone with sudden desperation.
— Leave Juvia alone! — she cried, her voice cracking like thunder. A torrent of water burst from her palms, striking Gajeel’s chest.
It didn’t knock him back — but it got his attention.
His lips curled into a cruel grin.
— So the fountain’s got pressure. Let’s see what happens if I crank it harder.
He lunged, his hand clamping onto her collar, and with brutal force slammed her against the stone wall. Her cry echoed through the chamber. Her feet dangled helplessly above the wet floor.
— SHUT OFF THE GODDAMN RAIN! — he bellowed, inches from her face, eyes gleaming with sadistic glee.
That was it.
Something broke.
— DON’T TOUCH JUVIA!!! GET AWAY FROM HER!!!
Her scream shook the room. A geyser of water erupted from her hands with the force of a bursting dam, slamming into Gajeel’s chest and hurling him backward across the hall. He staggered, boots skidding across the wet floor, dripping from head to toe.
He wiped water from his eyes, chuckling darkly.
— Tch. Sprinkler’s got some bite after all.
But before he could strike again, a voice sliced through the tension like a blade.
— Is there a problem here?
José Porla.
Phantom Lord’s master stood in the doorway, tall and cloaked, his thin lips twisted in that perpetual, calculating smile.
Gajeel turned, crossing his arms. — Not at all. Just wondering what this leak’s worth to the guild.
José’s gaze sharpened.
— I chose her for a reason. Are you questioning my judgment, Gajeel?
The Iron Dragon Slayer clicked his tongue, glaring.
— No, Master. Whatever.
He stomped off, still dripping.
José turned his gaze to Juvia, his expression softening — though it was the softness of a knife hidden in silk.
— You impressed me, girl. Don’t let anyone make you small. They’ll see your worth soon enough.
Then he left, cloak whispering across the wet stones.
Juvia collapsed to her knees, hands trembling, her cloud still raining above her head.
She didn’t feel stronger. Only emptier.
Like rain that never dried.

Now… In the Present
Fairy Tail Guild Hall — Gajeel’s Room
The moonlight poured in through a cracked window, spilling silver over the clutter: dumbbells, iron scraps, books gnawed by half-finished experiments. Gajeel sat on his bed, arms folded, piercings glinting in the pale light.
But his mind wasn’t here.
It was back there.
Back in Phantom Lord, in that moment when he first saw her break.
Juvia Lockser.
The rain girl. The outcast he once mocked. The one who later found her voice, her laugh, her home in Fairy Tail. He had watched her grow into something stronger than even she realized.
And now?
Now she was gone.
He hadn’t seen her in days. Not since the chaos with Irene, not since Gray… She had vanished like her rain into dry air. No trail. No word. No nothing.
Gajeel clenched his fists.
Damn it.
Where the hell are you, raindrop?
He stood abruptly, grabbing his jacket. His decision was already made.

Master’s Office
Makarov sat hunched at his desk, parchment and maps spread out in a mess of ink and worry. His face seemed older with each passing day, etched by stress and sleepless nights.
The door slammed open.
— Gajeel? Something wrong?
The dragon slayer’s voice was hard. — You send anyone to look for Juvia yet?
The old man sighed. His eyes sank with heaviness.
— No leads. No signs. She’s just… gone.
— Then I’m going, — Gajeel said flatly. — Alone.
Makarov’s brows furrowed. — You sure about that?
— I’m not asking, old man. This guild’s already drowning with missing guilds and that crimson-haired psycho tearing through the country. Let me handle this one.
A long silence.
— You know where to start?
— No. Don’t care. I’ll find her.
The question came softly: — You care about her that much?
Gajeel didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His silence carried the weight.
Makarov leaned back, nodding. — Don’t do anything reckless.
Gajeel smirked, faint and grim. — Reckless is my middle name, Gramps.

Outside the Office
Levy McGarden stood by the doorway, arms folded, worry written across her face.
— So… you’re going after her, huh?
Gajeel shot her a glance. — You gonna stop me?
She stepped closer, shaking her head. — No. But promise me you’ll come back. Her eyes softened. — I’m worried, Gajeel. About Juvia. About the guilds vanishing. About you.
He snorted. — I ain’t afraid of any of that. Never was.
Levy’s lips trembled into a small smile. Then, suddenly, she reached up and kissed him.
His eyes widened, caught off guard.
When she pulled back, her voice was a whisper.
— Bring her back. She needs someone. Maybe… maybe that someone’s finally you.
Gajeel didn’t reply. Words weren’t his thing. But his silence was enough.
He turned, cloak billowing behind him, boots echoing across the hall as he left.
Outside, the night sky was heavy with clouds. A drizzle began to fall.
As if the rain itself wanted to guide him.

Chapter Text

The rag scraped dully across the stone floor, its sound swallowed by the endless silence. Juvia’s arms ached; her fingers were raw from hours of scrubbing, yet she kept at it, her head bowed so low her chin nearly touched the damp stone. She didn’t dare look up.
The weight of the tower pressed against her chest. Every wall, every flicker of shadow seemed to whisper he’s watching.
Manannan didn’t need to speak to torment her. He never raised his voice, never struck her. Instead he drifted through the house like a phantom, teleporting from room to room. Sometimes he appeared behind her, other times his shadow lingered at the corner of her eye. Then—gone again. But always present, like smoke in her lungs.
When he was near, her breath came shallow. When he was gone, she feared he would return. There was no safety either way.
Stay strong, she imagined Erza saying. In her mind’s eye, Erza stood beside her—steel-eyed, unyielding. Pain is temporary. Courage is forever.
So Juvia endured.

At last the air grew still. No trace of magic hummed in the stones, no flicker of power crawling across her skin. She waited another heartbeat, then another, before daring to rise.
Her legs trembled as she crossed into the library, its heavy shelves looming like sentinels. She had been here countless times, dusting books she wasn’t allowed to read, arranging volumes she couldn’t open. Yet one shelf always seemed slightly… wrong. The wood bent subtly, as though shifted too often.
Holding her breath, Juvia traced her fingers along the edge of a cracked spine, then tugged.
With a low groan, the entire shelf shuddered backward, revealing a spiral staircase twisting into the earth. Cold air wafted upward, smelling of mildew and salt.
Her heart leapt. A secret. Perhaps a way out—
The front door creaked.
Juvia froze. Her blood iced.
No. Not him again.
A pause. Then light footsteps—quick, confident, almost jaunty.
“Wow,” a familiar voice called from the hall. “So this is Manannan’s place? Yeesh. Someone needs to teach him what curtains are. Anyway—let’s go.”
Relief burst through Juvia’s chest like sunlight through storm clouds.
“…Meredy,” she whispered, smiling.
Together, they descended into the dark.

The chamber below looked nothing like the dusty library above. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with glass flasks of every shape: spheres, cylinders, jagged spirals. Each was filled with liquid that shimmered unnaturally—blood-red, bile-green, luminous violet, some as black as tar. Their faint glow painted the walls with shifting color, like a madman’s rainbow.
In the center stood a squat stone table. Upon it rested a thick tome bound in cracked leather. The title, burned into the hide, read simply:
Spell Book.
Juvia shivered. “Juvia is seriously creeped out. What the heck are all these flasks even for?”
Meredy didn’t hesitate. She marched to the table and flipped the tome open with a smirk. “Alchemy, looks like. Mix ingredients, say some words, get weird magic. Honestly? Not as strange as you turning into water, or me linking people’s emotions. One of my guildmates could weaponize imagination. Compared to that, this is practically cooking.”
Pages fluttered open, each filled with cramped handwriting, symbols, and diagrams. Juvia leaned closer, eyes wide.
“To Become an Eagle,” she read aloud. “One eagle feather. A pinch of night saffron. Juice from a black orange. Say the words.”
She frowned. “Juvia doesn’t even know the name of the wind. And saffron? That’s expensive!”
Still, her eyes lingered. Another page detailed how to call a storm: seawater, driftwood ash, the caster’s own breath—and rage as fuel.
A flicker of a smile touched her lips. “Maybe we can turn into eagles and fly away from this nightmare.”
Meredy raised an eyebrow. “And get shot down by magical hawks? No thanks. The only real way out is through Manannan. But this book… yeah, this could be the key.”

As Meredy bent over the tome, Juvia’s attention wandered to a desk at the far end of the chamber. Upon a velvet cloth sat a crystal ball, its surface flawless, the mist inside swirling gray.
Something compelled her forward. She touched it, then lifted it gently, as if holding a captured raindrop.
She shook it once. The mist parted.
A scene bloomed inside the glass.
Lucy Heartfilia. Crying.
Her hands clutched her lap. Tears streaked her cheeks. Beside her sat Gray, his face shadowed, unreadable.
“It’s my fault, Gray,” Lucy sobbed. “She died because of me. I’m to blame!”
Gray shook his head. “Don’t say that. Juvia will return. She always does.”
“She’s been gone for days! No trace, no note. She must’ve gone after that woman… and now she’s dead! I should never have said those things to her!”
“I know,” Gray murmured softly. “I miss her too. Makarov’s sending a search party tomorrow. She’ll come back. She’ll yell my name, pop out of nowhere, and give me one of her weird gifts again… like that creepy pillow she made. The one with her picture in a bikini. Still gives me chills.”
The crystal slipped from Juvia’s numb hands, clattering onto the desk.
Her heart cracked in two.
Gray-sama… misses me?
He does miss me…
…Wait. He thinks the pillow was creepy?! Weird?!
That pillow was handmade! Two weeks of embroidery!
Then another voice echoed—Lucy’s voice.
You don’t understand what love means.
Juvia’s knees buckled. She crashed to the floor, sobbing so violently the sound barely seemed human. “WAAAAHHH! JUVIA IS A HORRIBLE PERSON! HOW COULD SHE BE SO MEAN TO LUCY?! JUVIA DOESN’T DESERVE A FRIEND LIKE HER!!”
Meredy jerked upright, startled. She rushed to her side, kneeling, pressing a tissue into Juvia’s hand.
The water mage blew her nose with a noise that might have frightened dragons.
Between shuddering breaths, she spilled everything—the crystal’s vision, Lucy’s tears, Gray’s awkward comfort. And of course… the pillow.
Meredy blinked slowly. “…Wait. You really gave Gray a body pillow of yourself?”
“Juvia spent two weeks sewing it! It was romantic!”
“No. It was sick.”
“It was love!” Juvia wailed. “Haven’t you ever given Ultear a gift?”
Meredy’s face twisted at the mental image of herself presenting Ultear with a bikini-clad body pillow. “Normal people give flowers. Or books. Or scarves. Not life-sized half-naked dolls.”
“Gray-sama accepted it!”
“He probably didn’t want to hurt your feelings. Juvia, I literally use emotions as magic—I know obsession when I see it. That wasn’t love. That was… desperation. I’m sorry, but someone has to say it.”
Juvia’s eyes flashed with wounded pride. “Juvia is not obsessed! Juvia is in love!”
Silence settled, heavy as stone.
At last Meredy tapped the open tome. “Argue later. Look—I found something useful.”
Juvia leaned over. The page was titled:
To Transform a Being into a Cat.
Ingredients:
– Whisker of a black cat
– Vinegar of shadows
– One mandrake
Juvia’s eyes widened. “Do you think… we could use this on Manannan?”
Meredy’s smile was grim. “If he’s purring in a windowsill, he can’t strip our magic. But first—we need leverage. We have to make him give our powers back. Then we strike.”
Juvia nodded. “Juvia agrees. But we mustn’t linger. He could return at any moment.”
“You’re right. Let’s split up. I’ll look for this ‘vinegar of shadows.’ You search the house. When he’s gone again, we regroup.”
Juvia clenched her fists. “When Juvia regains her magic, she will wash this cursed tower into the sea.”
Meredy gave her a crooked grin. “Don’t daydream yet. We’re not there.” She slipped upstairs, footsteps vanishing into silence.

The shelf groaned shut. Juvia was left alone again. Alone with the dust. Alone with her thoughts.
Juvia will give me another one of her weird gifts.
Giving someone a body pillow is obsession.
You don’t understand what love means.
Lucy’s voice gnawed at her skull. Gray’s half-smile stung her heart. Meredy’s blunt words carved deep.
You don’t understand anything.
“Shut up,” she whispered. Her fingers dug into her scalp. “Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!”
Her scream echoed through the library, bouncing off the stone, swallowed by silence.
And the silence did not answer.

Chapter Text

Chapter 14 — Chains of Rain, Keys of Guilt
Llewdor — Manannan’s Tower
The tower always smelled of damp stone, scorched herbs, and something sour that clung to the back of the throat. Even in silence, it groaned and creaked as though alive—ancient timbers settling, rats scurrying behind the walls.
To Juvia, it was not a home. It was a cage carved into a mountain, dressed in the clothes of a fortress.
Today, the air felt heavier than usual, pressing on her chest like invisible chains.
At the long oak table, Manannan chewed lazily on overcooked pheasant. His fingernails, yellowed and brittle, tapped the wood in a steady rhythm. Click… click… click.
Juvia knew that rhythm now. Every tap meant he was thinking. Judging. Waiting for the smallest twitch in her face.
She stood in the corner, head bowed, hands folded, posture perfect as if carved from stone.
“You seem quite calm today,” Manannan said suddenly. His voice was slow, like a knife being drawn from its sheath.
Juvia’s lips pressed into a line. “Juvia has nothing to say. She did everything you ordered.”
“And yet…” His pale eyes, sharp as frozen rivers, swept over her. “You still have those eyes. Eyes that suggest… challenge.”
“Juvia has the eyes she was born with.”
His mouth twitched, half amusement, half irritation. The tapping stopped. “Are you hiding something?”
A shiver knifed down her spine.
No. He cannot know. The tapestry. The hidden chamber. I only peeked. I never touched—
“Juvia will never hide anything from you,” she said, forcing her voice flat as a frozen lake. “She knows resistance is a lost cause.”
He leaned forward, chin propped on his hand. His stare crawled across her skin like insects.
“Have I ever told you about Gwydion?”
Juvia didn’t flinch. “Juvia doesn’t care what you tell her.”
A hollow chuckle rasped from his throat. “Obedient boy. Always bowed his head. Carried out chores without a word. But he made a mistake…”
He snapped his fingers.
The air detonated. Lightning split the floor at her feet with a deafening crack. The stones hissed, scorched black. Juvia’s legs stiffened, but she refused to stumble.
“…he thought he could outwit me.”
Her pulse thundered. “What happened to him?”
Manannan’s lips curled. “He vanished. Disobedience erases people from this world.”
Juvia’s chest tightened. She imagined bones buried beneath the flagstones. Ash drifting down the mountain river. His cruelty needed no proof; her mind supplied enough.
Still, she straightened her back. You are an S-Class mage. Drip, drip, drop. You will not break.
He rose, brushing crumbs from his robe as if his words were nothing. “From this day, you will call me Master.”
The word dug into her like a hook.
She raised her head, fists trembling.
“I will cook your meals. Scrub your filth. Empty your chamber pot. But Juvia will never—” her voice rang like steel, “—never call you Master.”
The silence thickened, like the air before lightning.
“I must have misheard.” Quiet. Dangerous. “Repeat that.”
Her throat constricted, but she spat the words like venom. “Juvia said she will never yield. Never.”
The tower seemed to inhale. Ropes of glowing magic snapped into existence, coiling her wrists. They yanked her upward; her shoulders cracked. Her toes barely brushed stone as she swung, hemp burning her flesh until warm blood slicked her forearms.
“You are feisty,” he murmured, silk wrapped around blades. “Perhaps hanging there will soften you.”
Scorched stone and mildew clogged her nose. Her arms blazed. The rope creaked with every breath.
No crying. No screaming. He will not have it.
For a fleeting moment, her imagination betrayed her: water surged in her mind’s eye, flooding the chamber, rising past her ankles, her knees, her chest. She almost felt it soaking her skin. The ropes snapped, the tower crumbled, Manannan drowned.
But the vision shattered. Her arms still burned. The stones were still dry. The world mocked her.
“…Tell me, lass.” Idle, almost conversational. “Who is Gray-sama?”
Her breath caught.
“The other night,” he went on, inspecting his nails, “you whimpered his name in your sleep. Gray-sama, Gray-sama, over and over. Is he your little lover?”
“Why would you care?” she hissed.
“Oh, I don’t.” His tone brightened with cruel cheer. “But imagine his face… if he saw you now. Broken. Dirty. Hanging like a fly in a web.”
Heat burned her cheeks. If she had her magic, the tower would drown.
“If Gray were here, he’d pierce your rotten heart and still be in love with Juvia!”
His voice dropped, sharp as frost. “Maybe not.”
He stepped closer; she could smell damp earth and bitter herbs on his robe. His smile split like a crack in stone.
“Maybe he’ll never find you. Maybe he’s already taken another woman to his bed. Maybe… he’s already forgotten you.”
That pierced deeper than any blade.
The ropes slackened. She fell, knees smashing stone. White-hot pain vaulted up her legs. Tears stung, streaking down her cheeks before she could stop them.
“No… Gray-sama would never… never forget…”
His eyes glinted with satisfaction. “So. That is your weakness.”
He vanished in a flash, leaving only the command echoing off the walls:
“Clean my chambers. Immediately.”
Juvia stayed crumpled on the floor, trembling. Grief weighed heavier than iron.
But under it, faint and stubborn, a mantra whispered:
Drip, drip, drop. S-Class mages don’t break forever.

Fiore — Sabertooth Guild Hall
Sabertooth’s hall glowed with lamplight. Polished wood gleamed beneath black-and-gold banners. Pride hummed in the air—the sort that once masked cruelty. To Sorano Agria, it still stank of hypocrisy.
She strode in, white cloak brushing the floor, eyes like knives.
Maybe Yukino will be surprised to see me. Or maybe she won’t recognize me at all. I was never much of a sister.
At the stairwell, Rogue emerged, pale eyes unreadable. Shadows coiled faintly around his feet.
“You are Yukino’s sister. Angel, if I’m not mistaken.” Calm. Polite.
Sorano smirked. “It’s Sorano. Angel’s dead. Do try to keep up.”
“Can we help you?”
“I came to see Yukino. Where is she?”
His jaw tightened. “She’s not here.”
“Not here? Great. I drag myself to this den of hypocrites for sister time and she’s—what? Shopping?”
“She won’t be back. Not for a while.”
Something in his tone knotted her stomach. “What do you mean?”
“She vanished. A week ago.” His voice dropped, almost ashamed. “That night, the skies lit with strange lights. People heard whispers in the alleys. Then she was gone.”
Sorano froze. For once, her mask cracked. A jagged panic flared—then she smothered it in venom.
“Vanished? For a week? And you—what? Sat on your hands while she’s out there, gods know where?”
“We’ve searched. No trace.”
Rage flashed. “By the time Sting bothers to act, she’ll be dead. But of course—she isn’t one of your golden children, so who cares? This is the guild that humiliated her, made her strip in front of a crowd like a dog.”
“That was before Sting—”
“And you let it happen!” Her voice cracked like a whip. “Your old master would be proud.”
Shadows flared, licking the walls. Rogue’s composure fissured. “Enough. We care for Yukino. But insult Sting again and I will throw you out.”
Sorano tilted her head, a knife-smile cutting across her face.
“Oh, please. The two of you were supposed to be Sabertooth’s proud dragons, and you got steamrolled in the Games. Half the crowd thought Sting faked a stomachache to dodge a real fight, and Rogue—well, shadows don’t look so menacing when you’re flat on your back.”
His nostrils flared. Shadows writhed like snakes at his feet. For a heartbeat, she thought he’d strike. Instead, he exhaled slowly, forced calm back into his posture.
“Watch your tongue,” he said, low and strained. “You’re only tolerated here because you’re Yukino’s sister. We know that the rune knights and military are after you, and we will call them upon you if you insist on making a scene”
She smiled sweetly, voice dripping poison. “So protective of your boyfriend. How cute. Tell him not to worry—Yukino’s sister is on the case.”
She pivoted and strode out. Her laugh echoed. Rogue didn’t follow.

Crocus — The Alleyway
Later, under dim lamplight, Jellal waited. Blue hair glinted faintly; his eyes were steady, tired.
“So. You’re going to search for your sister,” he said quietly.
“Damn right. Nobody else here will.”
“Meredy has been gone three weeks, searching for Ultear. If you leave too, our strength diminishes.”
Sorano smirked. “What is this month—missing relatives? First Meredy, now Yukino. You’ll vanish next chasing a cousin.”
Jellal didn’t react, though exhaustion etched fine lines at the corners of his eyes. He thought of the order in which their fragile guild had taken shape: once, Crime Sorcière had been only two—Jellal and Meredy—a pair of sinners trying to make something righteous out of their debt. Later, the remnants of Oración Seis had chosen the harder road and thrown in with them—Cobra’s sardonic drawl, Racer’s restless legs, Hoteye weeping over lost fortunes and found hearts, Midnight fighting sleep like it was an enemy—and Sorano, whose blade-tongue cut cleanest of all. And now Meredy was gone into the world, hunting rumors of an aged woman who might once have been their mentor. The circle felt thin again.
Without another word, he reached into his cloak and pressed something cool and familiar into Sorano’s palm. Metal. A key.
Her breath hitched. “Caelum…”
Light shimmered. A polished sphere of steel and runes blinked into the air, hovering. Its core pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat.
Her throat tightened. Memories rose—kicking it when it lagged, forcing it forward until sparks coughed from its seams. She had been its tormentor.
“Hey, old pal.” Her voice cracked. “It’s been a while. I… I’m sorry. This time, I don’t want a weapon. I need a friend.”
The orb hummed. Then a voice, mechanical and jagged, resonated:
“UNDERSTOOD.”
Her jaw dropped. “You can talk?!”
“AFFIRMATIVE.”
“Why did you not talk before???”
“MASTER DID NOT ASK.”
A laugh burst out of her—half bark, half sob. “Figures. You always were smarter than me.”
“NEGATIVE.”
Despite herself, she laughed again, shaky and raw. For the first time in years, a real smile edged onto her face.
“Alright then. Let’s go. Let’s bring Yukino home.”
“AFFIRMATIVE.”
“Quite the speaker.”
“AFFIRMATIVE.”
Sorano pinched the bridge of her nose, groaning—then snorted. “Monosyllables with theatrical flair. Perfect. Stay close, Caelum.”
“AFFIRMATIVE.”
“Yes, whatever...”
Exasperation softened into something warmer. The ex-angel and her machine spirit vanished into the night.

Manannan’s Tower — Later
Back in the tower, Juvia wrung out a blood-damp rag into a bucket and watched the red swirl into pink. She stared until the water went still. The room stank of vinegar and lightning.
“Master,” she whispered, tasting the word like poison, “Juvia will never say it for real.”
Her fingers trembled, then steadied. She tucked a loose strand of blue behind her ear and stood.
Drip, drip, drop. The chain inside her chest rattled. S-Class mages don’t break forever.
Somewhere far from this cold mountain, a metal eye opened in the dark, and a sister’s name echoed in a hollow place that had never known prayers.
The storm had not passed. But it had chosen a direction.

Chapter Text

Llewdor — Manannan’s Tower
Manannan was not happy.
Juvia could tell by the rhythm of his fingers against the oaken table — click… click… click. The sound was sharper than cutlery against stone, sharper than his shallow bites of the overcooked pheasant she had just served.
He should have dismissed her already. Instead, the wizard leaned back in his high chair, eyes gleaming like damp coals as he studied her.
“You seem quite calm today,” he said, each word deliberate.
Juvia kept her gaze low, her hands folded neatly at her apron. “Juvia has nothing to say. She did everything you ordered.”
“And yet… you still have those eyes. Eyes that suggest challenge.”
Her pulse stuttered. Eyes? Had he seen something? The tapestry in the corridor, the hidden latch behind it… She had only peeked inside. She had touched nothing.
“Juvia has the eyes she was born with,” she replied, forcing herself into the same deadpan calm she had once seen Meredy wear like armor.
A thin crease appeared between his brows. “Are you hiding something?”
Her stomach twisted into knots. “Juvia would never hide anything from you. Resistance… is a lost cause.”
He rested his chin on his gnarled hand, gaze heavy. “Have I ever told you about Gwydion?”
Her lips tightened. “Juvia doesn’t care what you tell her.”
A humorless chuckle. “Unassuming boy. Head down, obedient, quiet. And yet…” He snapped his fingers.
A bolt of lightning cracked into the flagstones at her feet. The air reeked of ozone. Her knees trembled, but she forced them still.
“…he tried to betray me,” Manannan murmured. “Thought he could outwit me.”
Her voice was barely a whisper. “What… happened to him?”
He smiled without warmth. “Let’s just say Gwydion had to go away. Those who challenge me tend to vanish.”
Drip, drip, drop. Hold yourself. You are an S-Class mage.
Manannan rose, crumbs sliding from his robe. “From now on, I’d like you to call me Master.”
Her composure snapped. She straightened, fists clenched. “Juvia will do your chores. Clean your house. Empty your disgusting chamber pot. Dust that pig pen you call a study. But she will never—” Her voice cut sharp, steel-edged. “—never call you Master.”
A silence, thick as tar.
“I must have misheard,” he said softly. “Would you repeat that?”
“Juvia said she will never yield.”
The air shivered.
With a flick of his wrist, shimmering ropes of magic coiled around her wrists and yanked her upward. The ceiling groaned as she swung, the coarse hemp biting her skin.
“You’re quite feisty,” he murmured. “Perhaps hanging there a while will soften you.”
The stench of must, charred air, and ancient wood pressed against her senses. The ropes creaked. She clenched her jaw and refused to cry.
Then his voice slid closer.
“…Tell me, lass. Who is Gray-sama?”
Her breath caught. What?
“The other night,” he continued, tone almost casual, “you were weeping in your sleep. Whispering that name. Gray-sama, Gray-sama. Is he your little boyfriend?”
She bit down on her fury. “Why would you care?”
“Oh, I don’t.” His grin was almost cheerful. “But I imagine his face… if he saw you now. Broken. Humiliated.”
Her blood boiled. “If Gray were here, he’d pierce your black heart and still be in love with Juvia!”
“Maybe not.” His voice dropped to a glacial whisper. “Maybe he’ll never find you. Maybe he already has another woman. Maybe…” His smirk curved slow and cruel. “…he’s already forgotten you.”
The words pierced deeper than any spell.
The ropes vanished. She fell to her knees, stone biting bone.
“No…” Her tears came hot, unbidden. “Gray-sama would never forget… never…”
Manannan’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “So. You do have a weakness.”
And then he was gone, leaving only his voice behind: “Clean my chambers. Immediately.”
She curled into herself, silent sobs shuddering through her body. Grief weighed heavier than chains.
But far beneath the ache, the mantra still pulsed: Drip, drip, drop… S-Class mages don’t break forever.

The Cliffside Fortress of Raven Tail
Raven Tail was already a husk of itself — a guild dissolved, driven underground, rotting in a cliffside fortress that stank of mold and salt.
Ivan Dreyar still called it his kingdom.
That morning, the air shifted. Magic recoiled like a wounded beast.
And then she arrived.
A woman in black robes, a crimson cloak writhing as though it were alive. Her boots clicked once on the wood. Her eyes were merciless starlight.
Ivan snarled. “Who the hell are you? Council spy?”
The woman did not answer.
“I said—!”
Click.
Her staff tapped once.
Reality cracked.
Dusks and Creepers poured through the fissures — twitching, faceless, wrong. They rended stone and flesh alike, a nightmare made solid.
Ivan’s men screamed.
Kurohebi lunged forward, chanting, his arm mimicking Irene’s gesture.
“I know what you’re trying to do,” she said, almost bored. A flick of her wrist, and the mimicry exploded back at him. He slammed into a table, limp as a rag. “A fly cannot become an eagle.”
From the corner, Obra crept forward, hand raised, summoning the sigil that had once silenced Lucy Heartfilia. He smirked—
The sigil shattered before it formed.
“Did you really think that a worthless piece of garbage like you would suppress me?”
Casually, with her back turned and without even bothering to look at him, Irene acted
He bolted.
Boom.
An invisible blast hurled him into a pillar. Crumpled. Whimpering.
The woman approached, heels whispering against stone. She traced a spiral in the air.
Obra convulsed. His spine twisted. His jaw stretched into a painted grin. A crank burst from his back.
Boing. Boing. Boing.
A jack-in-the-box.
“Your magic was always a joke,” she said flatly. “Now, so are you.”
Chaos erupted. Nobodies carved through barriers and bodies alike. Ivan tried to summon a Shikigami—too slow. Claws ripped across his chest.
He collapsed, gasping. “What… do you want…?”
The woman conjured a throne of nothingness and sat, one leg over the other.
“Recruits,” she said. “You’ll serve me better as Nobodies than you ever did as men.”
With a wave of her hand, monsters and corpses dissolved into mist.
She vanished.
Only one sound lingered in the silence of the ruined hall:
Boing. Boing. Boing.
Obra, forever springing. Forever mute.

Behind the Rock
Flare Corona had seen everything.
She crouched behind a jagged boulder, her crimson dress torn, her bare feet raw. The fortress that had sheltered her — gone. Everyone, gone.
She clamped a hand over her mouth to stop the scream clawing its way out.
Her wild hair slithered in the wind, alive.
“…Did you see that, Billy?” she whispered.
No answer. Only her hair.
“She vaporized them. Turned them into mist. Just like that…” She giggled, high-pitched, too loud.
“What do you say, Grim? Should I avenge them?”
Her hair curled toward her shoulder.
“Mandy says they used me,” she muttered.
Her lips twisted. “Liar. They were my friends. They let me braid their hair. That’s friendship.”
Another strand coiled around her wrist.
“Billy…” Her voice cracked. “He thought I cheated. Said I was weak. But I wasn’t cheating! I put that blonde chick in her place!”
Her anger flared. She ripped the strand and hurled it away—yet it curled gently back to her shoulder as if it had never left.
Flare’s body shook. Her voice dropped to a rasp.
“I need to be stronger. Super strong. Absolutely strong.”
She laughed again.
“Then I’ll find that black-cloaked bitch. I’ll gouge out her eyes. Rip her ribs, paint her name in blood. Oh yes, yes, yes…”
Her voice trembled.
“…Even if they’re already gone.”
Slowly, she rose. Her hair coiled around her like vipers.
Billy, Grim, Mandy were silent now.
Only Flare remained.
She walked into the empty horizon.
Toward vengeance.
Toward madness.

Toward something none of them—Fairy Tail, Raven Tail, or even Irene Belserion—had ever imagined her becoming.

Chapter Text

Juvia woke up with a gasp.
Her eyes darted around the room, and for a moment her heart leapt with relief. This was not the cold, suffocating stone chamber of Manannan’s tower. No chains, no shadows of her cruel master. She was in Fairy Tail—her bedroom in Magnolia, the faint scent of rain drifting through the window she had left cracked open.
Had it all been a dream?
She dressed quickly, hands trembling, and stepped into the hallway.
Lucy was there, waiting. The blonde leapt forward the moment she saw her.
“Oh, Juvia, it’s so great that you’re finally awake!”
“A-awake?” Juvia blinked. “Has Juvia been sleeping?”
“Yes! For days. We found you in a glade—what happened to you? You went straight to bed and wouldn’t wake up!”
Juvia’s lips parted. “Then… Juvia is home?”
“Of course you are. Where else would you be?”
Before Juvia could answer, another figure approached. Her heart seized when she saw him.
“GRAY-SAMAAAAAAA!!!”
She launched herself into his arms—but he didn’t move to catch her. His expression was grave, cold, almost frightening.
“G…Gray-sama? What is wrong?”
“I’m sick of you, Juvia.”
The words were knives.
“W…what?”
“You’re always following me like a lapdog. I can’t take it anymore.”
“Y-you are kidding… right, Gray-sama…?”
“Stop calling me that! Every day the same—Gray-sama, Gray-sama, Gray-sama. Can’t you give me space for once in your life?”
Her eyes blurred with tears. A raincloud began to form above her. “G…Gray-sama…?”
Gray reached behind him and pulled out the body pillow she had given him last week.
“What kind of gift is this? Do you think I’m so desperate that I need to see your face every night?”
He conjured an icicle and stabbed the pillow.
“What a piece of crap. Just what I expected from you.”
“Poor puddle girl…”
The voice was new, feminine, icy. Juvia turned and saw Irene Belserion standing behind her, smiling with cruel delight.
“She is nothing without her ice prince. So pathetic.”
And then Gray was gone. His face warped, twisted into something else—into Manannan’s. His voice came, dark and merciless.
“You will never see Gray again. Never, never, never. You will be forgotten.”
“NO! GRAY LOVES JUVIA! NOOO—AAAAAARRRRGGHHH!”
Juvia screamed and jolted upright.
She was in her real room—the dank chamber of Manannan’s tower. Her body trembled with sweat.
What a horrible nightmare.
Had the wizard heard her scream? She listened, terrified. No footsteps. No creak of the door. Apparently not.
For a moment she wished Meredy were here. Meredy would hug her, would tell her it was just a dream. Instead, only silence answered.
Damn you, old geezer… messing with Juvia’s brain even in her sleep.
Her eyes flicked toward the pillow on her cot. Still… did Gray-sama like Juvia’s gift? Does he really think her presents are weird? She shook her head. No. Focus.
Unable to rest again, she picked up the leather-bound tome she had stolen from the library: The Legends of the Blue. She flipped until her gaze caught on the cover illustration—a vast, majestic whale-like being, deep blue with glowing crimson lines.
The caption read:
This picture represents Kyogre, also called the Sea Basin. It is said that this magic beast lived in Earthland from thousands to millions of years. A legend says that Kyogre was the creator of the sea, expanding it when Earthland was nothing but mud. It is said that Kyogre controls the primordial sea—the heart of all water in the world—and possesses power with no equal. Legends tell that it resides in a place called the Cave of Origins, emerging only when the world is in danger, unleashing its attack, Origin Pulse, to summon ocean force capable of annihilating entire cities. Some say a magical artifact, the Blue Orb, can summon it… though its existence is unproven.
Juvia whispered the name. “The Sea Basin… the creator of the sea…”
Her pulse quickened. If Juvia could command that power… she would make Irene pay. That nasty witch started all of this.
Then, a voice crept into her mind.
But you brought this on yourself, didn’t you? Attacking Irene so mindlessly…
“Leave Juvia alone!” she hissed into the silence.
No reply. No angry footsteps. Manannan hadn’t heard. Relief washed over her, though her chest still ached. She hugged herself tightly. Meredy… if only you were here.

The next day, Juvia ventured into the wilderness surrounding the tower, gathering ingredients.
If we could turn into eagles, we’d be free to search more easily. Maybe that’s a good place to start.
She found a nest along the mountain path, perched high in a tree. Inside—precious eagle feathers.
Juvia could use water to knock it down… but no magic. She clenched her teeth and began to climb.
The climb left her arms aching, but she managed to grab a feather. That was when the eagle attacked, wings slicing the air. Its talons grazed her hair. Another dive made her lose her footing.
She plummeted, crashing into a bush.
“OWWW! It hurts! Juvia has never realized how hard everything is without magic!”
The eagle shrieked above, circling. Juvia scrambled for stones and hurled them until the bird retreated.
No Water Slicer… but still effective, she told herself bitterly, clutching the feather.
Her path led deeper into the forest, to a cave that pulsed with foreboding.
This feels important…
Her heartbeat quickened as a monstrous figure slithered out. A grotesque plant with writhing tentacles and a maw that stank of rot. The stench made her gag.
“What… is that thing?”
“It is a Malboro.”
The voice was sharp, familiar. Juvia turned and saw pink hair. Without thinking, she threw herself forward.
“MEREDYYYYYYYY!”
“ACK—ugh! Don’t crush me!” Meredy squirmed but didn’t push her away. “I don’t need another forced emotional breakdown hug to stop me from killing myself, thank you very much!”
“Juvia is sorry… but she needed that.”
Meredy sighed. “Fine, fine. Anyway. That’s a Malboro. Giant plant monster. Bad breath attack. The stench is its weapon. If you get hit, best case is vomiting. Worst case…”
“Is that why it stinks so much?”
“Exactly. And it’s guarding this cave. I’ve been watching it for a while—it patrols constantly. If Ultear were here, she’d just turn it into a sprout… but she isn’t.” Her voice wavered with sadness.
Juvia rested a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe Manannan placed it here.”
“Maybe. But how would he control a beast like that?”
“Then something important must be inside.”
Meredy nodded reluctantly. “Likely. But we can’t get in yet. Even with our magic, it would be dangerous. Without it? We’d be dead before we could puke. Your pink-haired hothead friend would get eaten instantly. And we’re even worse off than him right now.”
“Maybe we could distract it by turning into eagles.” Juvia pulled out the feather. “I found this.”
Meredy’s eyes widened. “Good job. Crazy idea—but it might work. By the way, I also found where we can get night saffron, the next ingredient.”
“Juvia heard about it in Magnolia… it’s rare.”
“Exactly. Some rich fool in the village owned one. But bandits stole it yesterday.”
“So… are you suggesting we steal it from them?”
“No. I’m saying we steal it back from them.”
“Meredy… they are bandits. We are just two ordinary girls.”
“We’ll never have our magic again unless we act. We’ll find a way.”
Juvia hesitated, then nodded. “Very well. Juvia will try.”
“Good. Because I already discovered their hideout. A cabin in the woods. They bragged that not even Manannan knows where it is.”
And so, together, the two girls set off into the forest—towards bandits, danger, and the next step of their desperate fight for freedom.

Chapter Text

The forest pressed in on them, its canopy blotting out what little daylight remained. Shadows spilled long and crooked between the gnarled trees, and every crunch of leaf underfoot felt too loud.
Juvia and Meredy spotted the hut almost at the same time — a squat, weather-worn structure that sagged against the weight of years. Moss clung to its roof like stubborn mold, and its windows were black pits. The kind of place you’d ignore if you didn’t know better.
Meredy tilted her head. “Looks abandoned.”
“That’s what they want you to think,” Juvia murmured, eyes narrowing.
Her gaze caught on something at the threshold — round, green, and too perfectly planted to be decoration. A jagged unease shot through her spine.
Meredy took a step forward.
“Meredy—don’t!” Juvia’s voice cracked sharp through the air. “That’s a Piranha Plant!”
It was like the thing had been waiting for her to say it. The bulbous red head surged upward from its leafy collar, white-spotted skin gleaming wet in the dim light. A serrated grin split its maw, and its thick green stem flexed with unnatural speed. It lunged, jaws snapping shut with a sound like breaking bone.
Meredy ducked low, the teeth missing her by inches. She scrambled back to Juvia’s side, breath quick.
“What the hell is that thing?”
“Carnivorous monster,” Juvia said flatly, though her pulse thudded in her ears. “Illegal to keep, but some use them as guards. Seeds are black-market goods — they don’t bark. They bite.”
Meredy frowned. “Why do you know so much about these things?”

Juvia didn’t answer. Not immediately. But the rhythmic snap of those jaws pulled her backward — not in space, but in time.
The trees melted away. She was in a stone-walled pit, the smell of damp soil clinging to her skin. Water dripped from her hair onto the dirt floor. Above her, José Porla leaned lazily over a railing, smiling the way a tutor might when a promising student passed a test.
The first Piranha Plant lunged. Juvia barely dodged, its teeth catching the fabric of her sleeve and ripping it clean. A second rose behind her, hissing.
“Don’t act like a scared rabbit,” José called down, voice oily with amusement. “Or you’ll get eaten.”
Her stomach knotted. She spun, lashed out — a whip of water sliced the second plant’s stem. The first came again, and she drove it back with a pressurized torrent. A third emerged, jaws wide. Her limbs ached, breath ragged, but she fought. Cut, dodge, blast.
José clapped slowly. “Five Piranha Plants eliminated. Quite promising… more than your poor fellow there.”
Only then did she see him — the boy she’d been thrown in with. Or what was left of him. A red pool, teeth marks, nothing else.
José dropped lightly into the pit, boots splashing in the mud. The raincloud over her head soaked him instantly, but he didn’t flinch. He stepped close and pinched her cheek with mock affection.
“Feeling bad about him? He was weak. You’re different. Untapped potential, Juvia. You’ll go far if you listen to me.”
“…Juvia doesn’t want to hurt anyone.”
“Then they’ll take advantage of you. Remember Gajeel? Remember his face when you fought back? You don’t need sympathy when you have power. Keep going, and maybe I’ll make you one of my Elemental Four.”
“…If Juvia gets power… she’ll be respected?”
His smile deepened, but never reached his eyes. “Exactly.”
A wet hiss yanked her back to the present. The forest. The hut. Meredy’s voice.
“Juvia! Are you there?”

Juvia blinked, forcing the ghosts of the pit back into their cage.
Meredy stared. “You’ve fought these before.”
Juvia’s gaze lingered on the plant, its swaying head, its eager jaw. “Before Juvia joined Fairy Tail, she was in another guild. Phantom Lord. A dark guild.”
“Like Grimoire Heart?” Meredy’s brows rose. “Wow… I never thought you were in a dark guild.”
“It was… complicated. Nothing Juvia is proud of. José Porla was its master, and he had… ways to test mages. He bought Piranha Plant seeds, planted them in a pit, and threw new recruits in to prove their ‘competence.’”
“And you worked for a psycho whose idea of training was throwing mages to man-eating plants?”
Juvia’s mouth tightened. “Juvia was lonely. José found her in the street. Said she had potential. Invited her to his guild. She… accepted.”
Meredy opened her mouth to reply — and then something in her own mind stirred.
The forest dimmed, replaced by the memory of a cold Grimoire Heart training hall. The air was sharp with metal and ozone. Hades’ voice echoed down the line of kneeling recruits.
“Your loyalty will be measured in blood. If you cannot kill on command, you are useless to this guild.”
She’d been fifteen. Her knees had ached against the stone floor. Beside her, a boy hesitated when ordered to strike a bound prisoner. Hades’ hand fell on his shoulder, almost fatherly — and then a flicker of lightning. The boy collapsed, smoking.
She remembered keeping her eyes forward, heart hammering, telling herself it was survival. Telling herself it was necessary.
The forest came back into focus.
Meredy’s voice was quieter now. “Well… I could judge you. But… you know, I have worked my life away from Grimoire Heart, as one of its damned Seven Kins of Purgatory, so I guess we both have skeletons in the closet.”
Juvia placed a hand on her shoulder, gentle and steady. “That makes us sisters in arms… don’t you think?”
Meredy looked at her for a long moment — not just seeing Juvia, but the ghost of herself in that pit. She gave a small, sad smile. “Yeah. It does.”
Meredy asked, “So… do you know how to get rid of this ugly thing?”
“Juvia needs to check something first.”
She picked up a stone and hurled it near the green pipe. The Piranha Plant shot upward and—FWOOOM—belched a fireball that incinerated the stone midair.
Meredy’s eyes went wide. “WHAT? They spit fire now?!”
“There are many variants,” Juvia explained grimly. “Some spit fire, others venom. Some breathe ice, like Gray-sama. And some… spiked balls. José liked to offer variety.”
Meredy gave a shaky laugh. “You’d think guilds would use them like attack dogs. They’re like mini-mages.”
“Well, they’re illegal for a reason.”
“Any idea how to beat one without magic?”
“They don’t move much. If they’re rooted, maybe we can use that.”
Meredy’s eyes flicked to a rake propped by a window. “There. One of us distracts it. The other grabs the rake and bonks it till it’s mulch.”
“Juvia will be the bait.”
Meredy yanked her back. “I’m smaller, quicker. I’ll do it.”
“Juvia will not allow—”
“Don’t treat me like a child, Juvia. I was one of the Seven Kin. I can handle this. Magic or no magic.”
Juvia’s lips pressed thin. “Then… be careful.”
Meredy darted toward the pipe. “Hey, ugly! Hungry?”
The plant erupted, firing a fireball that scorched bark inches from her head. She cartwheeled aside, laughing breathlessly. “Missed me!”
While the plant snapped at Meredy, Juvia crept toward the window. Its attention never shifted. She gripped the rake, palms slick, then swung. Once. Twice. A third crushing strike to its bulbous skull. The plant shuddered, collapsed, and stilled.
The path to the hut was theirs.
Meredy crouched by the door, pulling a thin wire from her pocket and teasing it into the lock.
“Juvia didn’t know you could do that,” Juvia murmured. “She isn’t sure if that’s a good thing.”
Meredy smirked. “Survival skills. Not my proudest, but they work.”
“Do you… steal?”
Meredy’s expression cooled. “Better to lift scraps from pigs than to do what Hades demanded.” A quiet click answered her. “We’re in.”
The inside was exactly what you’d expect from a bandit’s nest — filthy, cluttered, stinking of sweat and stale beer. Rubbish clogged corners. Flies buzzed around greasy plates.
“These guys are disgusting,” Meredy muttered. “Inside and out.”
They searched the mess, gagging at the grime. At last Juvia spotted something beside a bed: a sprig of black-colored saffron lying beside the bloated husk of a giant cockroach, its legs frozen in mid-twitch. She forced down bile and pocketed the night saffron.
“Great work, Juvia!” Meredy grinned when she saw it. “Now we just need to get out of here—”
A sound cut her off.
The door creaked.
Boots thudded across the boards. Voices — low, rough, laughing. The stink of sweat and cheap tobacco seeped in before the men did.
Meredy’s smirk vanished. “— before the bandits return,” she finished grimly.

Chapter Text

Meanwhile, in a forest near Magnolia…
The woods were quiet, almost unnaturally so. No birdcalls, no rustle of animals — just the faint whisper of leaves under Gajeel’s boots and the damp scent of moss and earth. His eyes, narrow and watchful, scanned the undergrowth like a predator on edge.
He was tracking Juvia.
It had been a full day since she vanished, and Magnolia had given him nothing. Not a witness, not a whisper — only dead ends. His gut told him the answers lay beyond the city, back to the scarred land where Team Natsu had clashed with that crimson-haired enchantress.
When he reached the site, his jaw locked.
The entire Yellow Chimera guild was gone. Not defeated, not scattered — simply erased. The guildhall was nothing but a crater, a hollow wound in the earth where arrogance and laughter once lived. The soil itself was charred black, smelling faintly of ozone.
“Holy crap…” Gajeel muttered, voice thick with disbelief. “It’s true. The whole guild’s just… vanished.”
Rage welled up before he knew it. He slammed a fist into a tree, bark and splinters exploding outward.
“Juvia, you idiot,” he growled through clenched teeth. “What the hell have you done?”
He dropped heavily onto a jutting tree root, letting the weight of memory drag him backward…

Phantom Lord — Years Ago
The guild hall stank of iron, blood, and candle smoke. Gajeel stormed through its corridors, boots echoing like war drums, fury pulling him straight into the guildmaster’s office.
José Porla sat in his throne-like chair, smile smug and predatory.
“What do you mean she’s gonna be part of Element Four?” Gajeel’s roar rattled the rafters. His fists itched for violence.
José’s grin widened. “Juvia has demonstrated power beyond even my expectations. She’ll be my perfect weapon.”
“You kiddin’ me? Just ‘cause she torched some dumb piranha plants?!” Gajeel’s teeth flashed like fangs. “I could take those weeds all day!”
“Many recruits are maimed or eaten by them,” José replied smoothly. “She destroyed them without a scratch. She has potential.”
“I should be the one doing that!” Gajeel slammed his fist against the wall, stone cracking. “You know what I can do!”
José’s tone sharpened. “You are predictable, Gajeel. Her water is tied to her emotions. Anger, desperation—she will become the tidal wave that sweeps Fairy Tail away. With her, my Element Four is complete.”
“Predictable?!” Iron rippled up Gajeel’s arm. “I could crush Fairy Tail in a heartbeat! Don’t hand my place to some stinking water fountain!”
The smile never left José’s face, but his eyes turned to steel. “You know I don’t like being questioned. My decisions are absolute. Leave… before I make an example of you.”
The menace in his voice was a knife against Gajeel’s pride. Gajeel spat on the floor, punched another hole in the wall, and stormed out.

Back in the Present
Gajeel let out a bitter chuckle.
“Who would’ve thought, huh? I hated you back then. Mistreated you. And now I’m chasing after you like you’re my long-lost sister.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “What a joke. A Phantom Lord dog turned into a lovesick puppy…”
The words died.
The hairs on his neck bristled. His dragon instincts screamed.
Something massive lumbered from the shadows — blue and white, round as a boulder, catlike head with tiny ears. It yawned so loud the forest floor quivered.
Gajeel groaned. “Oh, great. I was scared of a Snorlax.”
The beast blinked slowly, staring down with lazy eyes.
“You want a piece of me, fat slob?” Gajeel sneered.
The Snorlax ignored him, waddling deeper into the woods.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Run before I get mad.”
Then Gajeel froze.
Stuck to the creature’s broad back was a strand of long blue hair, shimmering in the moonlight.
Juvia’s hair.
His chest tightened. “That fatso’s got Juvia’s hair stuck to its ass…”

The Breadcrumbs
Following the beast’s trail, he reached a clearing. Strands of blue hair lay scattered like breadcrumbs, frayed at the root — not cut, but ripped violently away.
“She was here,” Gajeel muttered, crouching low. “But what happened? Did something blast her? Knock her around?” His fists trembled. “Damn it, Juvia…”
Then the pressure hit.
A suffocating aura pressed on his chest, stronger than what he’d felt before. The air itself seemed to tighten.
The ground split. White tendrils burst upward, writhing like living ropes before twisting into armored figures. Faceless. Gleaming. Each held a blade taller than a man. Their bodies hissed faintly, as if half-real.
“The hell?!”
One swung. Gajeel blocked, sparks flying as metal met pale steel. Another lunged. Then another.
“Think you can dogpile me?!” Gajeel’s arms morphed into jagged lances. He impaled one, shattering it — but instead of blood, its body dissolved into curling smoke. Another conjured a fresh blade from nothing, rising in silence.
“Persistent bastards…”
He smashed one with an iron club the size of a tree trunk. The construct flickered, then re-formed with eerie calm, faceless helm tilting as if it felt nothing.
More came. Their movements had no rhythm, no cries, no anger. Just blank, relentless advance. White blades rained down, forcing him back.
“They’re tougher than I thought!”
The circle closed.
Then — a black blur cleaved two of them in half. A towering warrior stood beside him: panther-headed, blade gleaming, eyes sharp as daggers.
“Did you really think you’d leave me behind?” Panther Lily growled.
“Lily?!” Gajeel’s relief was buried in surprise.
Together, they tore through the constructs. Gajeel skewered, Lily bisected — but even crushed, the faceless things re-formed before finally dissipating into wisps.
From the side, the Snorlax suddenly lurched and collapsed onto one of the Nobodies, flattening it with sheer weight. The construct evaporated instantly. The beast yawned again, unimpressed.
The remaining enemies flickered, then vanished into mist.

The Partners
Breathing hard, Gajeel wiped his brow. “What the hell were those things?”
“No idea,” Lily said, tail lashing. “But they weren’t natural.”
Before Gajeel could answer, Lily’s body glowed, shrinking until he was once again the small exceed that perched on his shoulder.
“What’re you doin’?” Gajeel snapped.
“Levy asked me to keep an eye on you,” Lily said calmly.
“That shrimp thinks I’m a kid who needs a babysitter?”
“Friend,” Lily corrected. “Not caretaker. I’d have followed anyway. Why sneak off alone?”
For once, Gajeel hesitated. “…Didn’t think I’d need you.”
“Looks like you did.”
Gajeel smirked faintly, holding up the strand of blue hair. “At least I found somethin’. Juvia was here.”
Lily’s eyes darkened. “The strands were ripped out. She fought something.”
“Blast, maybe. Whatever it was… this is our lead.”
“Then you’re stuck with me,” Lily said dryly.
“Fine,” Gajeel muttered, though relief colored his tone. “Glad to have you, partner.”
The Snorlax dropped onto the ground with a crash, snoring loud enough to echo all the way to Magnolia.
“You know,” Lily said, ears twitching, “Snorlaxes can fall asleep faster than Natsu charges headfirst.”
“Not hard,” Gajeel snorted.
Leaving the beast to its thunderous snores, the two partners pressed on into the night.

Chapter Text

“Someone’s knocked out the piranha plant!” a deep voice bellowed from the hall.
“And forced the lock!” another howled, closer now.
“Anyone who dares steal from us is a dead man!” snarled a third, full of promise.
“I’m sure the vermin’s still in the house—spread out!” barked a fourth, hard and commanding.
Four of them.
Juvia’s pulse thudded in her ears.
“Don’t raise your voice,” Meredy breathed beside her, crouched low. “We take them out one by one.”
“Juvia has no magic—she can’t even enclose them in a bubble…” The whisper trembled before Juvia could stop it.
“Neither can I link them together and fry their brains,” Meredy muttered. “But we have arms, legs, and the will to hit hard. That’s enough.”
“Do you think… we can do it?”
Meredy’s eyes narrowed. “If you want to see Gray again, you’d better hope so. Split up—we pick them off faster that way.”
The footsteps were heavy, methodical. A shadow grew across the doorway. Meredy slid silently toward the front room while Juvia dropped to the floor and rolled under the bed. The mattress sagged above her, scattering a puff of dust into her face.
The sour stench hit next—vomit baked into the floorboards. Her throat clenched; she fought the urge to gag.
“If you’re here,” the man’s voice was a gravelly sneer, “I’d better not find you, cockroach. I like to stomp cockroaches.”
The image of the dead roach she’d seen earlier flashed in her mind. She tightened her jaw.
If only Gray-sama were here…
He stepped into view—thin frame, patchy beard, knife dangling from his right hand. In another life, she’d have turned to water, wrapped around him, and smashed him into the wall. Now? A single cut could mean death.
Juvia, you are not a damsel. Water or no water, you are not helpless. Move.
Her eyes landed on a broom leaning by the shuttered window. She slid from under the bed, slow and silent, fingers curling around the worn wooden handle. The splinters bit into her skin.
Drip, drip, drop… Juvia can do this.
“The night saffron’s gone,” the man muttered, rifling through a cupboard. “The thief—”
DRIP. DRIP. DROP.
CLONK!
The broom cracked against his skull with a hollow thud. The man crumpled instantly, knife skittering away.
Juvia’s breath stuttered. Is… is he dead? Her fingers trembled against the broom handle. This wasn’t magic; this was blunt, ugly force.
The man’s chest rose faintly. No—he was alive. Relief and unease knotted together in her gut.
Meredy still needed her. She stepped over the body and slipped into the hall.

Meanwhile, in the front room.
Meredy crouched low behind a sofa so stained and sagging it barely held its shape. On the floor beside her, another cockroach corpse lay on its back, legs twitching in the still air. The air was thick with damp dust and rancid grease. How can anyone live in this stinkhole?
Two more bandits moved through the space. One was broad and padded with fat, bits of rusty barb wire threaded into his armor. The other was lean, muscles strung tight, swinging a mace that looked heavy enough to turn bone to paste.
If Ultear were here, she’d snap that mace in half. If I had my magic, they’d both be screaming by now.
Her eyes flicked to a chipped clay vase half-buried in dust. Ugly. Filthy. Perfect.
The mace man wandered into an adjoining room, leaving the fat one to poke through drawers. He lumbered closer to the sofa. “Maybe the little mouse is hiding here…”
Meredy’s size worked for her—low, small, hard to see. But even an oaf could spot her if he leaned over.
She didn’t give him the chance. One swift motion—her leg lashed out, catching his ankles. He hit the floor with a grunt. The vase came down hard on his head, the clay ringing against bone.
Gotcha. Two more.
She darted behind a tall cupboard.
The mace man returned, took one look at his fallen comrade, and roared. “You coward! I’ll turn your head into paste—yes, paste!”
Meredy braced, waiting for him to turn. But he pivoted too fast, and his hand clamped around her neck.
“Well, well… a little rodent thief.” His breath was hot and sour.
Meredy rammed a knee into his stomach. He grunted, grip loosening, and she bolted—straight into a wall of muscle.
The leader. Taller by a head, shoulders like a battering ram.
“So the thief’s a little mouse. Adorable,” he said, clamping one massive hand around her throat.
The mace man limped closer. “Boss, she hit me! Let me crush her head!”
“Sure,” the leader said with a smirk. “But maybe we have some fun first—”
Meredy’s stomach sank.
“Juvia will not let you touch her, you repugnant pervert!”
The cry came from behind. A blur—then a crash! The heavy chandelier above tore free, smashing into the leader’s head. Meredy dropped to the ground as Juvia shoved past her.
Without thinking, Meredy seized a wooden chair and brought it down on the man’s skull with a splintering crack. He collapsed in a heap.
The mace man lunged forward. “You think a couple of girlies can mock the Beck Badasses?”
“What kind of lame name is that?” Meredy shot back.
“Don’t tease him!” Juvia barked. “Run!”

They tore for the door, footsteps pounding behind them—until something blocked their way.
The piranha plant. Awake.
Its jaws gaped, the wet snap of its teeth echoing in the entryway. A flash—then a fireball burst from its mouth. Juvia and Meredy hit the floor, heat searing overhead.
The blast struck the mace man square in the chest, engulfing him in flame. He screamed, flailing wildly. “I told you having a piranha plant guard was a stupid idea!”
Night saffron clutched tight in Juvia’s hands, they didn’t stop running until the forest thinned and the night air cooled their lungs.
Panting, Juvia stumbled to a halt and threw her arms around Meredy. “We did it! Without magic!”
Meredy hesitated… then hugged her back, a rare grin touching her lips.
“Yes, Juvia,” she said quietly. “We did.”

Chapter Text

The grass was cool and damp beneath them, beaded with dew that clung to their boots. A thin mist drifted lazily across the clearing, veiling the treeline in a pale, shifting shroud.
Juvia sat with her arms wrapped loosely around her knees, her gaze fixed on the crushed stalk of night saffron in her hands. They had stolen it from the bandits, but its bright petals felt like a mockery of her mood. Silence stretched between her and Meredy, filled only by the whisper of leaves and the faint drone of unseen insects.
Finally, Juvia broke it. Her voice was soft, uncertain.
“Meredy… do you think Gray might… forget Juvia?”
Meredy turned her head. Her expression was calm, almost unreadable.
“Why are you asking me that now?”
“Juvia was just… thinking.” Her grip tightened around the saffron. “What if she doesn’t return? What if Gray finds someone better than Juvia?”
A single tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it.
Meredy’s voice was steady, almost gentle. “If he loves you even half as much as you love him, he’ll wait.”
“Are you sure, Meredy?”
“I am sure,” Meredy replied. She tilted her head. “Especially if you’ve been dating for a while. You two fought together on Tenrou. That must mean you’ve been together a long time, right?”
Juvia’s throat tightened. “…Well… Juvia is not really dating Gray.”
Meredy blinked. “You’re not?” She sat up straighter, incredulous. “Wait. You give him a freaky body pillow and you’re NOT dating?”
“It is not bizarre!” Juvia shot back, her face reddening. “It was made with Juvia’s utmost love!”
Meredy stared. “And you’ve never told him how you feel?”
“Well… not exactly.”
“That changes everything.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean—” Meredy shrugged. “—if you’re not dating, you’re not a couple. He has no obligation to you.”
“You don’t need to say it like that!” Juvia’s voice cracked, her hands tightening around her knees.
Meredy’s gaze sharpened. “Has Gray ever declared himself to you?”
“…No.” The word fell heavy, like a stone sinking into deep water.
Meredy leaned forward. “So you’d break your own leg for him like you did on Tenrou, you’d risk your life, but you’ve never actually told him you love him? Then what are you really doing, Juvia?”
Juvia fumbled for words. “Juvia… observes Gray, gives him gifts, writes him poetry, hugs him, checks on him when he speaks to other girls… oh, and once she fed him with her own water. And she makes plushies of him, and—”
Meredy’s lips pressed into a thin line. Her silence spoke louder than any words.
“That… sounds like a stalker to me.”
The word hit Juvia like ice water poured down her back. Lucy had once said the same.
“Juvia is not a stalker!” she snapped, her voice too loud, too desperate. “She just… wants to make sure Gray-sama is safe.”
Meredy’s stare did not waver. “How often do you ‘check’ on him?”
“Well…” Juvia’s cheeks burned.
“Well?”
“…Only a little per day.”
Meredy arched a brow. “The way you say it makes it sound like you spend the whole day.”
Juvia’s face went scarlet.
Meredy exhaled slowly. “It’s curious how you swing between determined survivor and lovesick girl. Which one is the real you?”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “And did I hear you right? You make Gray plushies?”
“Oh, yes! Crafted by love! Juvia gave some to Gray-sama!”
Meredy blinked in disbelief. “Some? As in… more than one?”
“Oh, Juvia’s Fairy Tail room is full of them. It is her sanctuary!”
The words landed like a hammer. Meredy covered her face with one hand.
“A room… you have a full room… filled with Gray plushies.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Juvia asked innocently.
“What else?” Meredy’s voice dripped sarcasm. “A towel with Gray’s face, so you can rub your rump with him?”
Juvia’s cheeks flared redder than fire.
“Don’t tell me you—”
Her silence was damning.
“YOU ACTUALLY HAVE A TOWEL WITH GRAY’S FACE???”
“…yes.”
Meredy groaned into her palm.
Her voice dropped lower, almost weary. “Now, Juvia… tell me what you really think of Gray.”
Juvia fidgeted. “Why do you want Juvia to do that?”
“Just do it.”
“Well…” Her hands rose to her cheeks, eyes dreamy. “Gray-sama is so handsome, so manly, so amazing… so brave, so strong, so mature, so incredible… Juvia wants to marry him, have fifty babies and—”
“Okay, stop.” Meredy cut her off sharply.
“What point?” Juvia pouted.
“Do you even know his hobbies? His dreams? Have you ever talked with him about Ur? Or whether he likes muffins with chocolate and strawberry?”
“What does that have to do with Gray-sama?”
“You’re talking about him like he’s perfect.”
“Gray-sama is—”
“No.” Meredy’s voice hardened. “Gray is human. You’ve built an image of him in your head, and that’s what you’re in love with. The plushies, the towel, the shrine-room—this isn’t love. It’s obsession.”
“Juvia is not obsessed!” Her voice rang out, but it wavered.
“Yes, you are. You don’t really love him, Juvia,” Meredy said, firm but not cruel. “You love a version of him you’ve invented. Not the man himself.”
Juvia’s eyes stung. “Juvia does love Gray-sama!”
Meredy shook her head. “No. You’ve built your entire life around him. Without Gray, who are you?”
Something inside Juvia snapped. Her voice rose, sharp with fury. “You have no right to judge Juvia! You do the same with Ultear!”
Meredy’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t compare that. My bond with Ultear runs deeper than your infatuation.”
“Really?” Juvia’s voice trembled with anger. “Have you ever thought about the woman you follow with such devotion? Juvia reminds you: Ultear tried to kill her on Tenrou. She tried to slash Juvia when she was unconscious—she remembers! Juvia would have died if not for Gray-sama. And you—” Juvia’s voice broke into a cry, “—you were ready to kill yourself for her, and she didn’t care at all! If Juvia hadn’t hugged you that day, you’d be dead, and Gray-sama and Juvia along with you!”
Meredy’s face drained of color. Her lips parted, but no words came. She had buried that memory deep, smothered it with excuses—but Juvia had dug it back up with merciless precision.
“Juvia pretended that she was not angry at Ultear when we met for the first time in this place, but not anymore, Juvia will never forget that the woman you worship tried to slash her neck”
For once, Meredy was speechless.
Juvia pressed on, her voice trembling but relentless. “You call Juvia obsessed, yet you turn a blind eye to the fact that Ultear cared nothing for your life until the very end. One noble sacrifice does not erase everything she did.”
A suffocating silence fell. A single tear escaped Meredy’s right eye, but she blinked it away as if it had never existed.
Juvia’s own heart clenched. Why did you say that, Juvia?
Meredy’s glare hardened into steel. “I have nothing else to tell you. Do whatever you want — obsess with Gray until your brain melts. I don’t care.”
She stood, her boots whispering against the wet grass as she turned away.
“Meredy, wait!” Juvia surged to her feet, hand half-raised—
—and froze.
The air thickened, pressing down with a sudden, unseen weight. The mist that had clung to the clearing swirled and darkened. From the treeline, a shadow moved, tall and menacing.
Manannan stepped into the open, his scowl deep and sharp, his presence blotting out the fragile world they had just torn apart.

Chapter Text

The next morning, the air inside Manannan’s tower was thick enough to choke. The wizard’s candles smoked black, releasing greasy coils that clung to the damp stone walls. Juvia scrubbed at his cluttered desk, every surface sticky with the residue of potions and spilled powders. Her hands already reeked of sulfur and mold, and no matter how she rubbed, the stench seemed to seep into her skin.
Without sound or warning, the air warped. A sickly pressure pushed against her lungs as Manannan materialized in front of her. His ragged robes dragged across the floor as though the shadows themselves held their edges.
“I have decided to take a journey,” he rasped, his voice like rust scraping on iron. Bits of stale bread and grease glistened in his beard from the night before. “If I return and you are away again, you will spend the remaining week without a morsel. Am I clear?”
Not that you let Juvia eat much anyway, you miserable coward, she thought, her jaw tightening.
His eyes narrowed, burning like live coals in a furnace. “And I hope you are not hiding anything from me. Because if you are…” His voice dropped into a growl. “…it will be the last thing you ever do.”
Juvia is hiding ingredients to defeat you, buried under your flea-ridden beard, she thought, her lips curving in the faintest trace of a smile.
“I would never dare, master,” she said aloud, lacing the last word with quiet venom. If he heard it, he showed no sign.
With a crackle of air collapsing in on itself, Manannan vanished.
The moment he was gone, Juvia bolted. She nearly kicked his foul-tempered cat aside as she threw the door open and fled into the morning.
This time, she wasn’t searching for ingredients or planning her rebellion. This time, she needed to find Meredy. To undo the wound she had left with her cruel words.

The town smelled of stale beer and smoke from dying hearthfires. Its streets were deserted in the gray dawn, save for the creak of wooden shutters and the soft crunch of her boots against dirt. Juvia pushed the tavern door open.
Inside, the room was empty. Orange embers flickered in the fireplace, painting the walls in a low glow. The same waitress from her first visit stood behind the counter, polishing a mug with a rag that smelled sour, like vinegar.
“You again,” the woman muttered, her eyes narrowing at Juvia’s ragged dress and tired face. “From the look of you, I’d say Manannan has you on a chain.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Juvia said quickly, stepping forward. “Juvia is looking for Meredy.”
“Ah, the new pink-haired waitress.” The woman leaned on the counter, her brow furrowed. “She left a while ago.”
“Did she say where?” Juvia pressed, her voice almost breaking.
“Something about a stroll near the river. But she’s been gone far too long for a simple walk, if you ask me.”
Juvia’s chest tightened. A cold thread of dread slid down her spine. She didn’t wait for more. She turned and ran.

The river lay beyond the fields, a silver scar twisting through the land. Its roar reached Juvia long before its shape, a constant, savage thunder that drowned out her own heartbeat. Mist curled low over the plain, white tendrils clinging to the reeds like grasping hands.
“Meredy!” Juvia shouted, her voice snatched away by the roar. Her boots sank into sucking mud as she scrambled down the slope.
Then she heard it — not the water, but something cutting through it.
A scream. High. Frantic. Splintering the fog.
“Help!”
Juvia’s chest seized. She sprinted, branches whipping her arms as she tore through the reeds.
And there she was — Meredy, her fingers raw and bleeding, clawing at a jagged rock while the current battered her small frame. Her pink hair plastered to her cheeks, her eyes wide, wild with panic.
“Meredy!” Juvia’s throat burned as she cried out. “Hold on!”
The river hissed and crashed against stone, spray bursting like shattered glass. Every surge of water tried to peel Meredy’s grip from the rock.
“Juvia!” Meredy’s voice broke. “I can’t—!”
For an instant, Juvia saw the trembling girl from Tenrou again, ready to let go of her own life. Not this time.
Her gaze darted, searching. A heavy branch, thick and water-swollen, lay half-buried in the mud. She dragged it forward with a grunt, muscles straining, and shoved it out over the water until it bridged the gap. Dropping to her knees, she crawled across, the branch creaking beneath her weight, the froth below promising to rip her apart if she fell.
If she had her magic — oh, if she only had her magic!
She stretched out a hand. The moment she was about to reach the rock—
Meredy slipped.
The river yanked her away like a predator claiming its prey.
“NO!” Juvia yelled “JUVIA WILL NOT ALLOW THIS!”
Juvia didn’t think. She jumped and dove.
The water struck her like a wall of knives, the shock stealing the air from her lungs. Cold bit deep, bone-deep, turning her blood to ice. Her maid’s dress dragged at her, heavy and strangling, but she kicked hard, fighting the weight.
Spray blinded her, foam stung her eyes. The roar of the river became everything — above, below, inside her skull. She flailed forward, every stroke a battle against something bigger, stronger, merciless.
Through the blur she saw Meredy, thrashing, seconds away from smashing into a cluster of rocks.
Her chest screamed for air, her muscles tearing with effort. She surged, stretched—
Her hand closed on the back of Meredy’s neck.
“Got you,” she rasped through clenched teeth, water flooding her mouth.
Water is Juvia’s element. No river will claim Meredy while Juvia breathes.
She dove under, eyes burning in the foam. For a heartbeat she saw nothing—just blur and froth. Then—Meredy’s arm, pale and flailing.
Juvia lunged. Her hand closed on Meredy’s wrist. Her grip locked like iron.
“Got you!” she rasped, river water pouring into her mouth.
Meredy clung back with desperate strength, nails biting into Juvia’s skin. The current rammed them both against a branch, bruising ribs, but Juvia used it—shoved off, kicking hard, angling them toward the bank.
Her lungs screamed. Her body shook. The river dragged at their hips, snarled at their legs, trying to yank them under again. But Juvia kicked and clawed and forced them through the froth.
Mud rose beneath her boots. She staggered, then collapsed onto the bank, hauling Meredy with her. They sprawled in the wet earth, coughing water from their throats.
For a long moment, the only sound was ragged gasps, the river still roaring behind them as if mocking their escape.
Meredy shivered violently, her lips blue, eyes wide and glassy. Then, trembling, she turned to Juvia.
“You…” Her voice was hoarse, breaking. “You really jumped.”
Juvia, still heaving for breath, managed a weak, dripping smile. “Of course Juvia jumped.”
Meredy’s face crumpled, then she lurched forward, pressing into Juvia in a sudden, fierce hug. She was shaking, but her grip was unyielding.
“You saved me twice,” she whispered into Juvia’s shoulder. “Once in my heart… and now my life, thank you, Juvia, thank you!

Chapter Text

On Magnolia’s outskirts, Sorano, while looking for her sister, Yukino, came across a little village and decided a tavern and a beer might steady her head. There was still no sign of her beloved sibling; the thought crawled under her skin as if Yukino had been erased from the world.
She took a long swallow and let the foam sting her nose. Why am I such a lousy sister? she thought. I forgot I existed when I was doing Brain’s dirty work, back in Oración Seis. If I find her, what do I even say? “He—llo, my cute little sister, I haven’t given a crap about you in years, love me!” The memory tasted like bile.
A voice she knew too well answered from inside her. Wanting redemption? How pathetic.
Angel was back.
“No, not you,” Sorano muttered.
Your sister wouldn’t even look at you. Angel, sinner, murderer, Brain lackey.
“Shut up.”
Did you enjoy killing Karen? Did it thrill you? How would Yukino react if she knew how you got the Aries key?
“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Sorano snapped, louder than she meant.
You don’t love Yukino. You want someone to accept you. You’re desperate. It doesn’t matter what you do—you’ll always be Angel, the Oración Seis criminal.
“Leave me alone, dammit!” The shout cracked like a whip; a dozen heads in the tavern turned.
She focused on the rim of her mug. The beer went flat on her tongue. Her thoughts slid back, back when Sorano was Brain´s henchwoman, and she had to fight that Fairy Tail celestial mage, Lucy. Sorano remembered her well, that “spirit hippie” who insisted on treating spirits like friends or something.
Angel, holding Aries, laughing, the smell of burning wool. Lucy’s pleading voice in her ear: “Angel, withdraw Aries—she’s hurt!” Angel’s laugh: high and cruel. “Don’t waste your breath. This sheep isn’t even worth the wool on her back.”
Angel looked at her spirit, she was holding Leo, that good for nothing Zodiac lion, who refused to hurt her. Caelum was pointing its cannon at both.
“Shoot them both” Angel ordered “let that worthless wool thing be useful for once”
She saw it again: a flash of light, Aries screaming, the cannon roaring, both spirits being pierced and destroyed “What’s the matter?” Angel had said, smug. “They don’t really die. They’ll come back. Not that I’ll bother summoning that piece of trash again.”
“How can you be so cruel?” Lucy voice reverberated on Sorano´s head now.
Her fingers tightened on the mug until the wood creaked. For a moment she wanted nothing more than to smash it against her skull and stop the memory.
A presence at her shoulder pulled her back. Three shadows loomed—dirty men reeking of drink. The middle one strutted like he owned the room.
“What are you doin’ here, doll?” he slurred.
Sorano did not look up. She kept drinking.
“I like your dress,” the second man said. “You like showin’ off them boobies, don’t ya?”
Her feathered white dress—part costume, part identity—was never modest. It reminded her of Angel, of what she’d been. She kept it to remember, to hum herself into not repeating the past.
“Don’t you have anything better to do?” she asked, bored.
“What a feisty one,” the third man purred. “Just my type.”
“What do you want for me?” she said, flatly “let me guess, you want to go to the forest with me to pick mushrooms.
“You bet, in fact, we have collected three of them, do you want to see them?” the leader said, voice low.
“I’m sure women line up at your door for fun,” Sorano said with a small smile.
“What did you say?” asked the leader.
“I said that no woman with more than half a brain will ever look at you in your face, even if you pay”
The smile was the match. The leader’s face went red.
“You think you’re so smart, skank?” he growled “you are asking for it!”
The man tried to grab her.
Without warning Sorano reached across the table, clamped her hand on his head, and smashed it down against the wood. He slumped, out cold. She stood, and grabbed a whip she kept in her belt, making it crack like a mad snake.
“Do you want to play with me, big boys?” Her smile had sharpened teeth.
They lost every ounce of swagger. They bundled their leader and fled, stumbling into the night. Sorano sat again, twirled her Caelum key on her finger, and let the tavern settle back into its buzz.
You’ve gone soft, Angel said inside her. I would have killed them. You only humiliated them.
Sorano finished her drink in measured gulps and stared at one spot on the wall, the tavern’s laughter turning thin in her ears. If not for that damned Tower, she thought, maybe we would have had a normal childhood, like other girls.
The door burst open. An anxious man stumbled to the bar and grabbed the bartender’s sleeve.
“Ralph? What’s wrong?” the bartender asked.
“Millie’s been captured!” Ralph blurted, breath reeking of alcohol.
“The kid? Again?” the bartender scoffed. “Ralph, you’re drunk.”
“Not this time! She’s been—kidnapped!”
“Seriously? By what? A gang of Quagsires?
“Rats! My daughter was kidnapped by rats!”
The room snorted. Rat-men? The patrons laughed him down.
“Rats!” Ralph insisted. “Big—walking like men—talking!”
“Talking rats? Man, this is the dumbest thing you have said. Ralph, go back home, and don´t try to buy booze attempting to sell your daughter celestial keys again!”
Sorano heard that.
Celestial keys?
With determination, Sorano stood and moved through the crowd until she was nose-to-nose with the trembling man.
“Is your daughter a celestial mage?” she asked.
“Yes,” he whispered. “Millie—she’s got keys. They took her. Rat-men dragged her off—huge, like men. They said something about a horned rat.”
“She saw them?” Sorano pressed.
“I… I heard them. They spoke nonsense, about a horned rat. They dogpiled on her...tied her up...it was horrible! They took her, and tied her hands!”
Sorano felt the world tilt. The name horned rat meant nothing to her, but the rest did. Celestial keys. Kidnapping. Yukino’s face flashed through her mind, small and bright.
“Maybe he’s drunk,” she told herself, though her chest hammered. Maybe they were dark mages, not rats. Maybe truth lay somewhere between madness and warning.
Her hand closed around the Cinzel key at her side.
If someone had taken her sister, there would be blood to pay. Whoever put Yukino in danger was about to learn the price.

Chapter Text

Several awkward seconds stretched like a damp blanket before Juvia finally spoke.
“Why… why did you plummet into the river?” she asked, voice small and curious.
“The bandits attacked me.” Meredy’s tone was flat, the kind that carries too many footprints to be comfortable.
“You… you mean the bandits from the hut?” Juvia pressed.
“Correct. The fat one tried to grab me—so I kicked him in a very… sensitive spot. You don’t need Maguilty Sodom for that, if you know what I mean.” Meredy forced a tired smile. “Unfortunately, the other jerk—the one with the mace—hit me from behind and knocked me out. When I woke up I was wet and thrashing in the river.”
Juvia’s hands tightened into fists. “She wished she’d been there sooner” she said.
“You were in time to save me — that’s what counts,” Meredy said, fishing something from her soaked pocket: an orange, sodden and browned at the edges.
“Is it… the dark orange?” Juvia squinted, hopeful.
“It is. I spent the whole morning looking for it. Harder than I thought — the only one I found was on a half-withered tree. I climbed down and then the bandits found me…”
“Did you keep looking for ingredients after what Juvia told you?” Juvia interrupted, alarmed before she could stop herself.
Meredy blinked. “I did. I… I think I owe you an apology.”
“No!” Juvia grabbed Meredy’s hands. “Don’t blame yourself. Juvia is the one who said awful things!”
“No — Meredy was the one who said dreadful things to Juvia,” Meredy sighed “I overreacted, I did it...because, while listening to you worship Gray so much, especially the part with the plushies...I saw myself on you”
“Do you also make Ultear plushies?” Juvia chuckled.
“...No, Juvia, I would not make such abominations- Meredy also smiled- I mean that you remind me of how much I adore Ultear...even if that makes me blind”
She exhaled, her face sinking into shadow. “There is something about Ultear I haven’t told you. My true reason for wanting to find her.”
“Juvia understands that you appreciate her,” Juvia said gently.
Meredy looked at the horizon. Her nostrils flared as if trying to inhale a memory made of dust. “Let me give you some background. I was born in a small village — cozy, simple people, chickens, smelly horse dung…” she smiled, a flash of something tender. “One day, bandits decided it would make a good bonfire. I don’t remember much — only myself slumped and crying, until Ultear found me. She taught me Maguilty Sense and, in a way, she became my mother figure. Well, about the bandits part...I will clarify later”
“That makes Juvia feel even worse about what she said,” Juvia whispered.
Meredy shook her head. “Sounds good, right? But the story has plot twists.” She gave a short, bitter laugh. “Remember Tenrou? After the hug?”
“Juvia… collapsed, right? And… Ultear tried to kill her?” Juvia tried to follow.
“Please — let me tell the whole thing.” Meredy’s voice held a quiet firmness.
“Okay, Meredy. Go.”
Meredy leaned forward. “Flashback time. Pay attention; I’m not fond of them.”

A year earlier, on Tenrou Island—
After their fight, Juvia had collapsed from exhaustion and emotion. Not wanting to be seen, Meredy carried her toward where Gray had last been seen. They moved by the compass of fear and hope until Ultear stepped from behind a tree: dark hair, a determined expression that made Meredy shrink.
“Ultear!” Meredy breathed.
“I see you defeated Gray’s lover,” Ultear said, nodding toward the unconscious Juvia. “And she’s still alive. What will you do with her?”
“Ultear, listen — Juvia is a good person. I was going to take her to Gray.”
Ultear’s gaze went icier than tundra. “Take her to Gray? Drop her to the ground.”
Meredy placed Juvia between them and took a step back. “Now stay back.”
Ultear advanced, blade glinting. Meredy’s throat tightened.
“Ultear…?” she whispered.
Ultear lifted the sword. “What are you going to do?”
“She is Gray’s beloved—”
At that moment something in Ultear seemed to slip. Her eyes flashed with a thing that was not quite sanity. “She has to—”
“No! Don’t do this!” Meredy cried.
“It is necessary,” Ultear said.
Juvia’s eyes flew open in time to see Ultear raise the blade toward her neck. She screamed.
A wall of ice erupted between them. “Gray-sama!” Juvia sobbed, hopeful.
Gray Fullbuster stepped into view, quiet and resolute. “If it’s me you want,” he said, “don’t involve her.”
“Gray Fullbuster…” Ultear’s face tore with history.
“I’ll take care of Ultear,” Gray told Juvia. “Escape — now!”
“No! Juvia will—” Juvia tried to protest, but then she fainted.
Meredy moved with the frantic efficiency of someone who had learned to be small and fast. She bundled Juvia and fled.

“Wait a minute, Meredy!” Juvia cut in from Llewdor, eyes wide. “Did Gray entrust Juvia to you? He fought Ultear for Juvia?”
“Pretty much, yeah,” Meredy said with that rueful half-smile she kept for the edges of memory.
“Juvia… Gray-sama…” Her cheeks flushed, an impossible color.
“May I continue?” Meredy asked, amused.
“Oh! Continue!” Juvia squealed.

They made it into a small cavern. Minutes bled into each other. Juvia eventually woke up, and started looking around.
“Ah, you are finally awake” said Meredy.
“Gray-sama”
“He is fightning Ultear, he gave you time, you should be grateful”
“Gray-sama”
“I am...sorry, I did not know that Ultear was so eager to hurt Gray”
“GRAY-SAMA!”
Juvia looked at Meredy with the scariest look that she has even seen since she tried to wake up Ultear one day.
- Juvia, listen, I am sorry to not have stopped her! It is complicated, because...
“GRAY-SAMAAAAAAA!!!!”
Suddenly, Juvia dropped to all fours, like a rabid dog, and, as if a switch had been thrown, bolted upright with animal intensity.
“GRAY-SAMAAAAAA!!!” she screamed, lunging at Meredy on all fours like a possessed creature.
Meredy dodged, cursing. “Hey, cut it out!” she shouted while sprinting. “Listen to me!”
Meredy then ran, with Juvia after her, sprinting in all fours with a speed that Meredy has never expected to see on a human being.
“GRAY-SAMAAAAAAA!!!!!!”

“Wait a minute!” Juvia interrupted again, back in Llewdor.
“Juvia, I will not be able to tell the story if you interrupt me every ten seconds”
“Are you telling Juvia she chased you yelling ‘Gray-sama’ running like a dog?”
“Not like a dog, more like a demented giant spider possessed by the ghost of a eight years old girl that died by drowning”
“Juvia doesn’t remember that!”
“Better that way.”
“Did Juvia seriously do that??” Juvia demanded.
“As serious as what happened next,” Meredy said, and went on.

The chase ended when a blast of black flame hurled Juvia away. She dropped like a sack. A tall blond man with unruly hair and a cruel smile stepped forward.
“Zancrow,” Meredy muttered.
“Who is Zancrow?” Juvia blurted, unable to help herself — another interruption, breathless and bright.
“You didn’t meet him. He was Hades’s favorite lackey — a Kin of Purgatory alongside Ultear. A psychopath, a sadist, and an idiot in one body. He uses freaky God Slayer black flames.”
“Juvia supposed he was not there to hug you,” Juvia observed.
“Absolutely not. Can I continue now?” Meredy pleaded.
Zancrow sneered. “Making friends with the water bitch, Meredy? I saved you — now kill her.”
“It’s not necessary!” Meredy protested.
Zancrow grabbed her throat. “Allowing Hades’s enemies to live is betrayal. You were the perfect soldier once — emotionless. Now you show softness. That softness is failure.”
His words were knives. “Ultear only kept you alive because she saw potential. She never cared for you. You’re a tool.”
“Ultear loves me!” Meredy cried.
“You think she does?” Zancrow smile was vicious “then, tell me, what was the last time she took you some cute bonding activity? What was the last gift she gave you? Has she ever celebrated your birthday? Has she ever smiled for you?”
“I...I...” Meredy muttered, on the inside, she felt sometimes like that, but being told that by Zancrow hurt, and it hurt a lot.
“Has she ever told you what happened to your cute village? Who attacked it?”
“Bandits!” yelled Meredy “Ultear saved me from them!”
“Bandits? Ultear manipulation disgusts even me...”
“...Manipulation?”
“Your nice town was not attacked by horrible hoodlums...it was us”
Meredy face went pale, she held a suspicion about the fact that they were not bandits.
“Ultear ordered the attack, we killed your parents and your friends because Ultear told us to”
“Liar!”
But Meredy remembered now, even if her mind has been deceiving her all these years.
She remembered Ultear caressing her crying face.
But Zancrow was also there, and Kain, the fat voodoo expert from the Kin of Purgatory.
Meredy eyes opened in horror.
“Ultear never cared, she only spared you because she saw your potential, if not, you would have died like the rest of the trash dwelling in the pig-pen you lived”
Meredy was unable to answer.
Zancrow’s voice dropped cold. “You think your village burned for no reason? Ultear ordered it.”
Meredy froze; suspicion flared into a burning ache.
Ultear, scratched and tired, stepped between them. “Leave her alone,” she said calmly “or suffer the consequences”
“Of course. Take your lapdog,” Zancrow spat and stalked off “eventually, Hades will realize how worthless she really is”
Zancrow left them alone.
Meredy faced Ultear, giving her a brutal glare, eyes accusing. “Is it true? Did you order my village to be destroyed?”
For a heartbeat Ultear seemed another person. She hugged Meredy abruptly, and Meredy’s knees nearly gave out.
“Am I a tool for you? Why did you lie to me?”
Ultear kept advancing.
“Ul… Ultear?” Meredy whispered.
“Oh, Meredy…” Ultear said.
“Tell me the truth!” Meredy demanded.
Suddenly, Ultear lunged at Meredy, and hugged her.
Ultear’s expression cracked. “I’m sorry…” she breathed — then struck Meredy across the back. Meredy collapsed.
When she awoke, she was alone on a beach. A folded note lay in the sand. Ultear’s handwriting apologized and promised she would use Arc of Time to stop Hades’s plan, and she wrote that Meredy should never look for her.

Back in the present, Meredy stared at the sky. “The note told me she was sorry, that she would stop Hades from summoning Acnologia… and that I should never look for her. That’s all I know.”
Her voice faltered. “And… after I finished reading it, I broke down so hard I thought my tears would never stop. But since that day… it’s like something inside me dried up. I haven’t been able to cry again.”
That silence broke Juvia’s heart. She couldn’t hold it. She exploded into loud, ugly sobbing. “WHAT A SAD STORY!!! YOU NEVER GOT TO SAY GOODBYE!!! AND JUVIA SAID SUCH HORRIBLE, MEAN THINGS TO YOU!!! JUVIA IS A MONSTER!!! JUVIA IS SO SORRY!!! TEN THOUSAND TIMES SORRY!!!”
“Juvia, for God’s sake, stop the waterworks!” Meredy groaned. “It’s gross — don’t drench me with snot!”
Juvia blew her nose so forcefully a flock of birds took off from a nearby tree.
“Do you usually explode like that in front of Gray?” Meredy teased, a thin smile pulling at her lips.
“The last time Juvia cried, she flooded the Fairy Tail hall,” Juvia mumbled.
Meredy shook her head, softer now. “Once you regain your powers, I might rent you out as a crop irrigation service.”
Meredy turned serious again.
“Now you know, I need to find Ultear, because I want answers, was I a tool for her? Did she really care about me? Did she...order my village to be razed? Was Zancrow an asshole, or did he tell me the truth? One thing is true, she did not...try to save me, when I had the three of us linked...all those things have haunted me since I founded Crime Sorciere with Jellal”
Juvia stepped behind Meredy and hugged her again — not the flailing tackle, but a gentle, steady hold. “When we escape — and we will — you will find Ultear and demand answers,” she said, voice steady in a way that surprised them both. “And Juvia will confess to Gray-sama. No more stalking.”
Meredy’s hand clenched with new resolve. She offered a small, grateful smile. “We’re going to beat the living daylights out of Manannan together,” she said.
They sat like that for a long moment, two damp figures sealed with the promise of a fight — and the fragile, stubborn hope of a real goodbye.

They sat like that for a long moment, two damp figures sealed with the promise of a fight — and the fragile, stubborn hope of a real goodbye.
Then Meredy broke the silence with a faint, rueful laugh.
“You know… I almost envy you, Juvia.”
Juvia blinked, wiping her soaked cheeks. “Envy Juvia? Why?”
“Because at least you can cry,” Meredy said, voice low. “Even if it’s messy and loud and makes birds fly away. I can’t anymore. Ever since Ultear’s letter, something inside me locked up. Tears just… won’t come. Not even when I want them to.”
Juvia’s lip trembled again. She hugged Meredy tighter, almost crushing her. “Then Juvia will cry enough for both!” she declared, sniffling into Meredy’s shoulder.
Meredy groaned, but her hand gently patted Juvia’s back. “Fine, fine… but if you drown me, I’m haunting you in the afterlife.”
That got a small laugh out of Juvia through her hiccups — and for the first time in days, a flicker of warmth lit the damp air between them.